Be quiet, please.
I don’t understa…
SMACK! Her cheek stung as his hand flew.
I said don’t move.
Come on now, you are ruining the illusion, paintings can’t cry, and stop breathing so heavy, I can see your breasts moving.
She breathed in and out and felt her blood cool and her back soften. She held the pose one last time. Leaving him would be easier than she thought.
She knelt on the had floor, wishing they had carpet, like in the old days, but no one did anymore, except the Imams.
She slowed her heart rate, smelled the food, and turned the sound of the crowd turn into music as she let her mind drift to later. She tried to suppress a smile, later she would be allowed to move.
She felt the frame around her and let it define her world. For the next two hours she was beauty, presented, displayed, and appreciated. Men and women gazed at her, longed for her, and smiled; some even reached out, but stopped, fearing reprisals.
“Go ahead, “she thought, “ban brushes and canvas and thought, art cannot be stopped”
No long commentary today, just a thanks to all who did, will, or wanted to drop by. If you didn’t play this week, join in as next time!