musou no fuka
Sunday, May 27, 2007
I brought out my set of acrylic paint and a few hairless brushes, and my rather abused white, high-cut chucks outside. It was sunny, and it was hot as hell. I could feel sweat drops trailing the ends of my chunked hair. A drop creates a dark spot on the off-white right shoe. Even with the vindictive reason, I still wipe the endless drops. I lay down everything on the open field, and I plant myself under a nice shady spot. And the drawing starts.
Somehow, I gained a natural ability to draw at the thought of a certain thing. Every time I soaked the tip of the brush into a color of acrylic paint, there was something to draw into the skin of the shoe, and when I look at the end product, I let out a little sigh. But I won't stop there, and I put a little bit more effort into filling up every space with the overflowing train of thought.
The pair of shoes were now very much different from their previous form, not dirty-white, but almost black, striped and spotted and seemingly splattered with viciousness. Where a hole aged for a year, was replaced with a tattoo of a swirling ray of light, with an overlapping bandaid.
"Done!" I say out loud. And summer never looked so happy to end.
Shenanigans!
smiled at the sun again @ 10:30 PM,
