"it will always tell you the truth."
she talked of literal combinations,
expressing her own scholastic doctrine of what was real, and what was not.
"it's just... blank", i proclaimed.
"there's nothing special about it..."
she shook her head, and took my hand.
she placed it on the white canvas, and told me to close my eyes.
i ran each finger across the jaded edges.
the bumpy material beneath my skin.
"now", she said.
"paint with your mind."
