Tecla Stabile

Fall in art.

It was a sunny day in Florence. In front of the church there was a painter. He was a street artist, a man with a big imagination that moved street to street in Florence.

He was painting the church when he saw a strange woman.

She had got pink hair, big green eyes and freckles. She moved close to the painter and she started looking at his draw.

< They are amazing! Full of reality. Maybe too much reality.>

< Thank you. But why too much…?>

He tried to complete the sentence but she was already moved on.

He continued to paint since the golden hours. Then he took his paints, brushes and draws and went home.

During the walk, he stopped for had dinner. He settled in front of the windows and he watched all Florence, lighted up by the sun.

After dinner he walked to his house. When he arrived, he put off all his raw material on the table, wore his pyjamas.

he said tiredly.

He started finishing a drawn. The drawn illustrated the Birth of Venus of Botticelli, in the Uffizi art gallery. Suddenly the draw started lighting up.

He closed his eyes and when he opened them he saw the Venus in front of him.

Shocked he tried to understand the meaning of him present here.

< Maybe… no. Is impossible. Maybe the girl with the pink hair did something. Maybe she had some power. Oh my god>

He closed his eyes, desperate, and again when he opened them he saw the church in front of him. 

< The other drawn I had to finish> said him.

He tried to move around the painting and he could do that.

said him < It is amazing>. The walked around the painting, he saw the church like it was in the exact moment painted.

He walked around the church. He saw the man he drew, the child with his mother, the coach with a family on it and the girl with the pink hair.

thought him. He moved to the girl and he started looking at her.

said him touching her skin.

Suddenly her eyes started moving. He was surprised.

< Mh… hi? > said the girl

< Oh hi. Are you fine?>

< Yes, I am. I have just a little bit of headache. Who are you?>

< I’m the painter. And you?> < I’m Muse. The golden hour is amazing. Would you like to come and see it with me?>

he took her hand and ran to the dome of the church.

The time passed and he was every second more attracted by her.

They arrived on the dome. They were up to all of Florence, they could see the view.

They started talking about everything. About the sun, the moon, art, science, love, hate, peace and war.

He fell in love with her, with her point of view. The sun vanished and the moon appeared in the sky.

They continued talking for hour and hour. The heart of the artist was full of joy and love, he never fell like that before. She understood his point of view, she attracted his body and his mind.

 

When he said it a piece of paper feel in front of them. Muse took it. It was one of his draws. When he saw it, it started lighting

he closed his eyes, there was to much light, when he opened them again he was at his office.

It was morning. It was all a dream.

He prepared all his stuff and started his routine.

He always watched at all the faces, looking for Musa. But he didn’t find her.

She was a dream. She was his muse, her inspiration.  He always dreamt her. But never saw her again.