My elusive Ginger Nymph
2 years: 10 months: 4 weeks
1 year: 11 months: 3 weeks: 5 days
Woodstock is 892 days old
Blondie and Dagwood are 357 days old
From The Black Book:
I am still haunted by my past mistakes.
This past Monday while walking toward Studio East to prepare for more still lives when I saw her. She was walking north while I was walking south. It was her red hair that I noticed first and, ironically, this may have been my down fall. I thought at first that she was someone else, someone in my studio class who also has red hair and who bears a striking resemblance to my elusive ginger nymph. I took this person to be the other, the not quite identical duplicate. I had seen this other numerous times recently and it did seem as though she was coming from Studio East, so naturally I assumed that it was her.
I smiled at her in passing. She smiled in return. That same wonderful smile that I discovered on Lake Street-the one that has haunted me. Yet something seemed wrong with the exchange. The face was different-not quite the face I was expecting. The freckles should have given it away. I found myself stunned out of speech and action as my mind raced to put the pieces together and I realized in full who I had just seen. I turned and watched her walk away from me, still trying to decide if it really, really was her and-if so-what to do or say. My first thought was to run and catch up with her. To stop her and say something. Yet I found I couldn’t think of the right words, or any words to say to her and so I let her go.
Fool. Ass. Thrice cursed am I.
Period.
1 year: 11 months: 3 weeks: 5 days
Woodstock is 892 days old
Blondie and Dagwood are 357 days old
From The Black Book:
I am still haunted by my past mistakes.
This past Monday while walking toward Studio East to prepare for more still lives when I saw her. She was walking north while I was walking south. It was her red hair that I noticed first and, ironically, this may have been my down fall. I thought at first that she was someone else, someone in my studio class who also has red hair and who bears a striking resemblance to my elusive ginger nymph. I took this person to be the other, the not quite identical duplicate. I had seen this other numerous times recently and it did seem as though she was coming from Studio East, so naturally I assumed that it was her.
I smiled at her in passing. She smiled in return. That same wonderful smile that I discovered on Lake Street-the one that has haunted me. Yet something seemed wrong with the exchange. The face was different-not quite the face I was expecting. The freckles should have given it away. I found myself stunned out of speech and action as my mind raced to put the pieces together and I realized in full who I had just seen. I turned and watched her walk away from me, still trying to decide if it really, really was her and-if so-what to do or say. My first thought was to run and catch up with her. To stop her and say something. Yet I found I couldn’t think of the right words, or any words to say to her and so I let her go.
Fool. Ass. Thrice cursed am I.
Period.