The Lady in the Living Room

a date with solitude

Since past few days I have avoided writing, maybe I wrote but didn’t publish but I read and edited my old poems. I tried to lose myself in colours, it has to be art — either words or colours so I searched for my colour box, found the art paper and those new brushes still waiting to see the light.

I searched in my phone picture of that painting which I wanted to draw, the lady reading a book, the colours yellow and green always speak to me.
I found turpentine and converted my living room into a studio and later during tea time the lady was looking back when I was having tea, family found two women in the living room, they knew that I had company, I had dated my own solitude with colours, yesterday instead of a poem there was this woman.

I felt I would struggle with her face but it’s her hand which held me, I kept drawing it again and again. Now that the hand is done, it’s her face which is waiting to speak. Today I will mix brown and white and maybe orange to match the shade, today home will again smell of turpentine and linseed.

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