“Paint how you feel,” is her instruction. So I do; I paint a little yellow Metro driving along a country lane. Because yellow Metros are happy things. I paint the sun high in the dazzling blue sky and cows grazing in the lush green grass. Smiling faces peering out of the windows, waving and smiling.
Memories surface as I create my scene. Friends squeezed in for trips to the beach, for spontaneous camping at the foot of Glastonbury.
Halfway along the canvass this happy countryside image stops. I fill my brush with black paint and smudge it into the painting; creating darkness, nothingness. I can’t stop myself. The picture fragments, the road they are travelling along becomes a bleak and unwritten place.
“Is that how you feel?” she asks, appearing over my shoulder.
“I don’t know,” I reply.
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