she strode past us with a strangely humble presence,
short dark curls matching a flawlessly and painfully casual outfit.
It must’ve taken her at least three trips from the shelf to the counter -
there was a stack of maybe 11 canvases in front of her, all varying in shape and size.

she was an effortless kind of beautiful,
the kind that boasts without saying anything.
you could tell so much about her just by looking at her appearance,
but at the same time all her movements seemed to be keeping secrets.
Her conversation with the woman at the cashier reflected her lightweight personality,
and I liked the way she used the word “surfaces” for the blank canvases -
that word was a large mouthful of potential.

I really hope she’ll paint them in all the different shades of European blues and greens and bronzes that I had caught a glimpse of in her eyes.