nympheline said: what to cover the artist woman in? ye gods, i can't even begin. could i shave your head down to the shifting skin, sketch there a monster (half-hideous, half-formed--and a sly old charmer) where, after your wild hair grew back in, you could never, ever see it? and ever-so-craftily, down your neck, where you *could* see, have its reaching tendrils end in briars and feathered antennae and various other beauties? symbols in spades for justin. watercolour daubs on your soles. crow bruises. blooms.
My favorite thing about this—besides all of the other things about this that are my favorite—is the “you could never, ever see it.” My very own high concept monster. Would, in time, I begin to remember it wrong? My monster, what were its eyes again? Have I misplaced its teeth the way I’ve misplaced my long gone Grandfather’s laugh? I could check, it’s right under my fingertips as I work a balm through my hair, but then… I mustn’t disturb my monster. There, existing, mainly in memory. Tickling at my scalp with beads of sweat in the summer.