The Picture by Lisa B._Violin Lessons_Blessings_Jackie Brown
Catalog Guide:
The Picture by Lisa B.
Brushstrokes brought me to life. Sensual touches of a soft tip on my wet skin, colouring in my mind, filling me up with memories, awakening my senses to the passion forming my shape under delicate caresses on the canvas, creating my small world and me within. I felt the yearning for me in every little touch; a hurricane of feelings stirring, at the flicks of a brush. From the start, I was wanted. From before I was, I was a fantasy.The paint was still glistening half dry on the canvas when I first opened my eyes, taking my first breath of the damp air heavy with the smell of fresh paint, tasted...
Violin Lessons
Lena was raised on violin lessons and minimal parental supervision. We called her Diva because we never learned her name until the day she was moving out. For three years, she lived above us and we never had any contact with her, other than to hear her perfectly executing an etude on her violin in superb fashion. Or singing along in angelic soprano to an opera recording. Sometimes, it would feel as though the heavens above had opened up to invite us upward in the purest transcendence.May we introduce? Today, we are Alex, though some days we are Alexandria, depending on our mood and what Diva, ...
Blessings
She stands, hands jammed into jacket pockets, at the top of the hill. Cool air kisses her cheeks, drying the tears slowly tracking down to her chin. The chill against her damp skin makes her shiver, but she can’t make herself move. She can’t make herself break her eyes away from the clouds, and the rays of the sun shining thrwww.onedoor.ccough the gaps like the fingers of God.“Lia?” she turns. Her fiancé, who had been standing a few feet away to give her some needed space, calls her softly. She knows if she tries to speak the rest of the dam will break, and she’s already too emotionally exhausted. She meet...
Jackie Brown
Sprawled out before, tentacles reaching in every direction is the Sunday paper. I always read it this way, taking it apart section by section, before reading so much as a single headline. I do this to avoid missing anything; any of the good bits often hidden in the bottom corner or the back side of a page. Reading the Sunday paper while sipping a freshly brewed cup of bean-to-grind coffee is the crux of my Sunday ritual. My new Sunday ritual. It’s what keeps the arms of the loneliness that creeps alongside me since Jeb slipped below the surface from wrapping around me and squeezing. Jeb has be...