chicago
Published in
2 min readMar 29, 2017
- we sit in a crowded room — hardwood floor, white walls, landscapes of varying hues: blue, purple, pink, orange, green
- you sit in front of a small white sculpture — observing the intricacies of the male form carved into stone
- i keep on looking at the colors — the room is organized in a gradient from light to dark, a pastel tint reflects on the white walls
- it is really cold outside today.
- i say “do you think they’ll let me in for free if i pull a van gogh?”
- “and cut your ear off?”
- “yeah”
- “yeah”
- we sit in silence. i have my gaze on two paintings — as the minutes go by, you ask me what i like about them
- “the colors,” i say — blue, purple, pink, orange, green
- people walk in and out of the room, occasionally looking down at us to see what we’re putting in our sketch books
- my hands shake — i am anxious to be with you after so long, i am full of caffeine, i am running on less than four hours of sleep.
- this is a new city for me. i am happy to sit here writing while you sit next to me, sketching the statue in front of us
- i think about cafe con leche and how cold it is outside.
