In that agression, the renaissance man never knew what he did to me.
For I knew deep down, with each stroke of brush I was turning prettier, identifying the subtle shades within me. The mesmerising painting, his brush and colours flowing within me. We were engrossed in each other.It seems like a never ending journey.The best symbiosis we could ever experience.
I showed the painting to mirror today. The mirror smiled . Oh! wait it was me who smiled :) .The mirror laughed at me and I blushed. This euphoria confuses him. He would be a painter forever without knowing the reason ever.
we laughed at his fate, both the mirror and me. The Renaissance man would have the renaissance after he finishes but he would finish only when I get finshed. He is fatigued, tired..mesmerised by colours, he is starting again. The colours oozing out of me fervently..the one he has never seen before..painting was his fate...and I am at bliss, I am the painting.
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