I had an epiphany at a check-out counter yesterday. My eyes stung and my jaw dropped about two feet as I absorbed her sight: Woman – her essence. There she was: Black hair sliding down butterfly shoulders, a classical profile with eyebrows like a sigh, a white dress and heels like Barbie. Her silhouette a sight to behold forever. It was like standing in a cave and gazing out into brutal sunshine. Ah, that’s it: Sublime, untouchable, perrrrfect.
Bodies and shapes have a way to capture me. I am easily taken in by slender muscles and curving lines. Male, female, feline, equine, you name it, I swoon when a certain delicate firmness catches my eye. I recreate the outline in my mind, I like to draw their gentle swerves in coal and etch their essence into the canvas. I caress their imitations with a sweeping glance and wonder: wherein lies physical beauty.
No one else was looking at her as she walked out of the store, sliding doors closing behind her in slow motion. She was just gone, leaving me behind paddling in her backwaters like a befuddled duck.
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