the lady at the Met. the ladies and men. and their observant children. so polished in her charisma. i loved her smack. her lips tightly pressed. delicate pearls trickling across her neck line. she was stern. and glazed at art. the language of paint. and motions of hands. this is an orchestra of finger work and acrylic. the statuettes in the hallways are blazing in the sunshine. the marble so white. the alabaster so sweet. the graphite so grey. and the art students by the master works. sweating and breathing. their language so beautiful.
i read through the little blurb. those pictures, so so very interesting. ohm night. hawks. your use of the phrase, i reveal the dark side of men. the way we are wild, and raw. i love it. a man being comfortable with body. the construction of perfect image in society. has blown away the scent of the table-salt manhood.
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