Artè #1: Paint Me Not

i. - getaway

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i. blank
otylia
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Humans; there were a lot of them taking a stroll in pairs outside as of the moment. I watched them freely, void of guilt for looking like someone perverted spying on people outside my windowsill, while sipping a cup of cold coffee.

My phone rang from the living room. Walking away from the window, I went to look for it. I have lived alone in this unit for three years already; tomorrow marking its fourth. Surprisingly, naka-survive ako sa first week nang mag-isa. First times were always a challenge, but i guess sanayan lang talaga 'yan.

I found my phone just under my small center table. I answered the call while I sat on the carpeted floor and leaned against my couch.

"Ma?"

"Don't tell me you're not coming?" My mom's voice were laced with disbelief.

"I'll try to be there before the wedding ends," paliwanag ko.

"It's my wedding, Otylia! You're telling me that my own daughter won't come to my most awaited wedding?" I rolled my eyes despite her not seeing it-which was a bummer.

In addition to that, that's her fourth time getting married! And lahat ng pinakasalan niya, pinerahan lang siya. Everytime na may dadalhin siya sa bahay, I would always ask her not to marry the guy hastily. But she just won't listen.

"Oh please! Ma, I already told you that your wedding date happened to overlap with date of Saint Peters Exhibition," I frustratedly replied.

"You always choose painting over me," mom whispered, sulking.

I let out a quiet sigh. "Ma, I've been waiting for this moment for three years. Ayoko na maghintay pa ng another year or two. If i missed this-"

Her satirical laugh made me stop. How could I ever forget their biased opinion when it came to art.

"Honey, walang pera sa art. I told you to go to med school pero ayaw mo. Mas may benefits ka pang makukuha kapag doctor ka," she carefully explained.

Same tone, same lines. I know where this conversation is going. I've already had an earful of it countless times and they never give up.

"You never listen to us. Your brother has been preparing to manage the company, what about you? Lia, listen to your mom-"

"Oh! My food's here ma, gotta go!"

I ended the call without waiting for her reply. Hindi ko alam kung ano'ng problema sa pagiging artist. It's not as if what I'm doing would bring shame to my family.

I stood up from where I was sitting and went inside my studio. Upon entering the door, one would spot several potted plants in the right corner and above my wooden work table, which was sitting right beside the window in the left corner of the room.

The room was brightly lit by the afternoon sunlight as the gentle breeze of wind sway the white transparent curtain hanging at the expanse of my window. At the center of the room was a wooden easel with a blank canvas on it. While a bunch of canned and bottled paints and brushes of different sizes were scattered on the plastic covered floor.

It was chaotic. If not for the nice ambience of the room and the fresh air that filled my lungs, I probably wouldn't even step a foot inside my studio.

I stared at the canvas that had been untouched for a week now. I honestly don't have any idea what should i paint. And this realization terrified me.

There's nothing more devastating than an artist loosing their passion for art. I don't know the reason behind why it happens but what i knew was, I wanted my painting to reach more people.

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It was Thursday, and it's been three days since the conversation I had with my mom. I decided to take a stroll around the city. I have no particular place i wanted to visit, i just wanted to feel the presence of other people.

I walked down the cobbled streets of Santa Monica. There were various stores on the sidewalk selling different local products. While I traverse the bustling street, a group of young teenagers were busking not far ahead surrounded by a crowd of people.

"Wow, thank you all for granting us your time! If any of you have a song you'd like to hear, don't hesitate to tell us. We would gladly sing it for you," said the guy who was, i pressume, the vocalist.

I decided to take a look and stood along with the crowd. There were three of them, the guy who was on the microphone-a guitar hanging on his body, another guy on keyboard and a girl on drums. There were two cameras on standby, one filming them while the other faced the crowd.

The girl on drums lightly tap the drumsticks together three times and the sound of strumming of guitar followed after.

The vocalist's silvery voice reverberated from the speaker. It was clear and pleasant to hear coupled with the guitar sound in the background, such combination would, without a doubt, capture any woman's heart.

I looked around and saw that people were unsurprisingly enjoying the song. There were some who took out their phones and started to film. While a pair of children were jumping and dancing along the music in the middle.

My eyes landed on a man standing across me. His camera was raised, focusing on my direction. I momentarily stared at the lense even though i knew he was probably capturing the crowd's joyful face as they listened to the song.

A small smile crept on my lips as I thought of that man's passion. I swept a glance at the group of youngsters performing. Their faces were red from excitement, while each of their smiles were radiating brilliance under the heat of the afternoon sun. They were overflowing with passion for music.

And I love seeing that.

It was then when the man holding a camera made his way towards my direction. There's nothing weird about that, but he's staring straight at me.

Should I run?