'Jules' mind went back under the moonlight and night air of Baldwin's Fine Arts Center Garden, where intense anger shifted into an intimate moment of curiosity with a blow of the wind.
Maybe two flames weren't supposed to be that close when raging...
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"Rather lose love than to move on never knowing what it felt like."
— Wale
THE NOVEMBER AIR glided against Jules' face as she rode the umber horse into the countryside.
Strands of long hair she sported floated in the wind, making her look like a graceful warrior as she guided the stallion by its reigns. Her body galloped along its back as she made her way toward the field of hay, marmalade colored grass, and shady trees.
Most of her solace as a child included hobbies that filled the time where friends couldn't as she spent what felt like an eternity of hiding from the world around her.
Private horseback riding lessons, taking up art as a passion, baking, poetry, reading, and learning how to play the piano we're the confidantes she poured her feelings into.
What she loved looked nothing like the demeanor she showed the world, a common defense tactic to protect the parts about herself that she valued the most as well as a result of poor social skills she'd picked up while growing into who she was.
The wind left cold kisses on her face as she rode some more.
This holiday, like many others -- was spent with her parents and two uncles.
Ayden's mother insisted that she needed to come home, as she hadn't seen her in months.
There was no arguing with that, Jules didn't want to take Ayden from her family — no matter how much she needed her.
After reminding Ayden that she was fine with the decision, she took off for the small country home that her parents rented for the week.
This brought her to the present, where she was spending time riding along the fields that seemed to be endless.
She found a place to settle under a White Ash Tree, taking a small blanket from the saddlebag on the horse and a canvas to relax with.
The yellow leaves of the three reminded her of honey and cider as the sun made them look like they could sparkle from a distance away.
After she laid the blanket out, she removed some paint tubes, brushes, and a thin wooden palette to begin painting the horizon.
The sky was unbelievably blue as amber, orange, rust, and yellow trees surrounded the sides. Clouds floated lazily within the air while the sun modestly sat in her spot among the paled turquoise scene.
She began to draw first, taking on the horizon, the grass the surrounded her, and the trees. Instead of incorporating reality within it, she decided to draw a crack in the middle of the sky that opened into something else.
