Life in Paintings

Chapter 19 - Wanderer above the Sea of Fog

Chapter 19 – Wanderer above the Sea of Fog

Before I even open my eyes in the next painting I know I'll be underdressed. If it was scorching hot in the last painting, in this one all I can feel is the wind hitting my exposed skin.

I wrap my arms around myself, take a deep breath—the air is fresh and cold and humid all at the same time, it's strange—and I open my eyes.

For a fraction of a second my heart stops beating because there's a silhouette in front of me, a man, standing at the edge of a mountain, looking over a landscape covered by fog. And my heart mistakenly hopes that it's Gustave standing there in front of me. The built might be similar but it's not him though. The man in front of me is blond.

I've seen this painting before. I know it. This one is important for some reason. Something about a movement I think. I remember seeing that painting and thinking they were making too much of a big deal out of it. It's just a guy standing at the top of a mountain.

But standing here right now, I don't feel like that anymore. The real thing, really standing here, it's breathtaking. For some reason, it feels so empty and full at the same time.

Suddenly, the man turns around. He looks very surprised.

"What are you doing here?" he asks me. He's frowning and appears to be confused, but he looks rather harmless. Then again, I really don't have the best track record in these paintings so far, so for all I know he's going to push me down the mountain so I can fall to my death.

That would be alright I guess. I've already fallen to my death before.

"I just stumbled here I think," I tell him. That's the best answer he'll get from me.

"How could you just stumble here? We're hours from civilisation," he explains. I could have guessed that much, this place is definitely remote.

"I'm not much for civilisation." Again, that's the best answer he'll get.

"Why would you come here?"

I kind of want to get over the silly questions, but I humour the guy. I even let myself imagine for a second that it's someone else in front of me that I'm talking to. If only...

"I'm looking for something..."

"What are you looking for?"

Seriously? It's like talking with a toddler who's just figured out how to ask questions. Next think I know, he'll ask why the sky is blue. "I'm not quite sure yet, to be honest." And I'm being completely honest. I still have no idea what I'm doing here, what I'm looking for, what's the purpose behind all of this.

"I'm also looking for answers in the great outdoor," he tells me and smiles faintly.

"Any luck so far?"

"A little." He smiles faintly at me.

"Care to share?"

"What do you feel when you look at everything around you?" Another question?

Suddenly, I feel really defensive. It's weird and it doesn't make sense but I do. "Who cares?"

"Because it's important," he explains.

I shake my head, back away from him a bit. "It's not."

"Yes it is. How do you feel?" he presses.