Her powerful and provocative artistry fails to capture the hearts of those who don't quite understand her message. Often overlooked in the art world, Beyoncé has struggled for years to gain the respect of her peers. That all changes when she meets A...
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now playing: "Everyday" by Jamiroquai
I'd crossed the pond for a second time.
This time, however, there was no promise of love, no blind hope, no naivety. My visit was a business one—a transactional one. Cold, calculated, pragmatic.
In the days leading up to my departure, I'd felt numb and detached from everything I had loved doing. My students were oblivious to my mental absence in the class and never questioned the lack of a final assignment before the end of the semester. My flight was set and the itinerary was laid out. The preparations were seamless, and before I knew it, I was seated first class on a plane, flying across the Atlantic.
Being in first class was new and different. The seats were bigger, the food was fancier, and the service was on another level. It was a nice change from the usual hustle of economy, although the upgrade wasn't a result of my own doing. Robyn and Kelly were worried about me, concerned at how withdrawn and tense I'd been up until the day I was scheduled to leave. As a gift, they'd surprised me with the ticket, wanting to ensure that the journey was comfortable.
I tried to object, but the girls were persistent, insisting that they wanted to treat me. Ultimately, they were able to convince me, and while the upgrade was an appreciated gesture, the anxiety and uncertainty hadn't subsided, and the tension in my body remained constant. I found myself drawing on my iPad at times when I grew tired of watching the in-flight movie or reading. Anything to distract myself, really.
Detailed portraits were usually reserved for clients, and I opted to draw more simplified silhouettes in my spare time. Faceless. Anonymous. Impermanent. It was safer that way, less distracting and stress-inducing, allowing me to focus solely on emotion and expression.
The silhouettes started to take shape, mirroring my thoughts, my emotions, my fears. Some were dark and brooding, others light and hopeful.
"Excuse me, miss? Miss?"
I glanced up, my eyes adjusting to the darkness of the cabin.
"Would you like a beverage?"
"Um, yeah. A glass of red, please."
The stewardess reached into the service trolley, producing a wine glass and pouring a generous amount.
"Thank you," I murmured, taking the glass from her.
"Can I get anything else for you?"
"No, this is all. Thank you." I was tempted to take the entire bottle, but my rationality kicked in, knowing the last thing I needed was to be drunk while navigating Heathrow.
"Alright, enjoy," she smiled, her eyes kind.
As she walked off, the cabin fell silent again. Around me, passengers were fast asleep, the even, steady rise and fall of their chests signaling a peaceful slumber.
