"Her husband used to say that a painter is an illusionist or a magician. Isabelle no longer agreed. A painter is a mother who nurtures the illusion until it can stand on its own."
This story blew me away. I just finished it and am sitting here quietly thrumming. I will read it again. It felt so real to me, as if the author had listened in on the conversations I have with myself and with my sister, a painter and noticer of color and light, as we both confront the next third of our lives.
This story blew me away. I just finished it and am sitting here quietly thrumming. I will read it again. It felt so real to me, as if the author had listened in on the conversations I have with myself and with my sister, a painter and noticer of color and light, as we both confront the next third of our lives.
Fine story💗🌷🌷