self portrait

the girl

i sat at the desk, sketching out one of my favourite exhibits. my teacher had told us to draw something that was comforting.

for me that was the gallery.

i loved seeing their faces, smiling at me, children, excited to experience art, love, hate, and fear in the gallery.

it wasn't just a place. it was a feeling. of comfort. of passion. of lust.

i saw the girl enter one day.

she didn't speak a word,
just nodded and smiled as she placed a £10 note on the counter.

"have a nice day!" i told her,
but she had already gone.
lost in the sea of oil paint and greek busts.

i was a lifeboat.

i waited.

i watched the girl with the silver hair leave.

"goodnight!"

she turned and smiled again.

that smile.

she lit my face up.

i could frame that face.

a masterpiece in this magical place.

i had found something more beautiful than the gallery.