 |
 |
This is lovely, Mark. At night in the dark I sometimes wake up and tell Sandy she is beautiful. I love her giggle in response. At day she remains pretty, but, oh, looking at the photographs from over the years, the changes! But this is a wonderful piece. S > I'm thinking of Rembrandt painting himself to right the disparity > between the young man and the old body he'd become--what the rest saw > that was invisible to him except on the canvas, which he hung, I > would guess, as a reminder. It doesn't pay to stray too far, leads to > all manner of bad decisions. But it didn't work: the brush at rest > again he remained the age he'd painted, so he did it again. And > again. Tallying up the account. > > At the end of his life he painted his son's bride, with perhaps more > depth than she knew she possessed, and a heartbreaking beauty. An old > man's wisdom and an old man's longing. And the young women parade > past still like presents wrapped in gaudy ribbons that one's > forbidden to disturb. > > The son he had loved and the bride he had loved died a year after > him. Spared at least that sorrow.