still life

by Jordan Horne

the thing i’ve missed the most was going to the galleries. watching her, observing her, taking her in as she takes in the art. hours of pensive silence and solemn reflection where i have no clue what is going on in her head and i couldn’t even begin to guess. a million moments of divinity that felt like lifetimes. and for a while, i did miss them. but one day, i walked into the kitchen and there she was, standing in front of an easel of her own for the first time, in quiet contemplation with the sunlight reflecting off of her hair. here with me but also galaxies and galleries away.

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