Standing on the threshold, your future unmapped who knows what adventures lie ahead? which paths will you take? which avenues will you dawdle down? what rewards will you seek?
Everything lies before you the big world beckons. Choose wisely, my son but not too wisely. Life’s not a dress rehearsal.
Purple robes from the snot of snails, rays from the tails of mango-fed cows. Colour-wash fades, dribbles down the page, Feeble brush strokes weep over wet paper.
In a misery of contempt she kicks the traces of her fractious art. Screw it up and start again!
Ground from stones, hewn from rocks poisonous pigments from the artist’s jewel box cobalt and lead, one blue, one red the venomous tools of her craft.
Carving curves with furious angst passions explode and erode while careless cadmium spatterings join dread smears on the studio floor.
Scissoring through shards of purple-pink silk the blood on the carpet of despair raising her brush she rages on rending the canvas in two.
Written in response to Sadje’s What Do You See #47 photo prompt. Image credit: Elena Mozhvilo – Unsplash