On a blank canvas.
I live on the tightly woven fabric, smeared with a thick
layer of gesso, stretched to cover the four bare connected planks. Stapled
edges to keep it all together.
I live with my friends. The twisted, gnarled, leftover,
empty tubes of my best friends mock me. They never stay long, but what can I
say? When they are here I squeeze the living daylights out of them. I do enjoy
the time we are together but it’s never, never long enough. My other friends,
hmph, they couldn’t leave if I paid them. Sure we shake hand once in a while
but it’s nothing like the time spent with my besties. Their plump figure pushes
my starving favorites to a dark corner.
Don’t get me wrong, we get along quite well. We all use
our different strengths and weaknesses to create something beautiful. Along
with my family, (I don’t mention them much. They are known for their amazing hair but they are a tad stiff in
their movements. Definitely not as fluid and free as my friends.) We work
together. With my friends and family blending their different spirits and
spreading their essence across my willing body. The beginning mess is quite
atrocious but what ends up on that aforementioned dried gesso of mine is
magnificent. Almost as great as my family’s hair, almost.
No comments:
Post a Comment