I'm painting her wooden letters in a variety of 'pop' colors that will be glued to her bedroom wall. I feel like Colonel Aureliano Buendía in Gabriel García Márquez's "One Hundred Years of Solitude", who painted little fishes. Here I am sitting by the open window, watching the rain drizzle away and the air blow dry the wet letters.
She arrives, standing by my side. I see her thoughts: what can I destroy, eat, throw? She goes for the letter "W" and knaws on it. Then she loses interest and moves to the next pile of mess to be messed with.
No comments:
Post a Comment