Romance Is Alive

Chapter 2: The Painter

The projection station turned on in the living room of their Airbnb. The alert buzz indicating a message from the global house is going to play begins.

"Good afternoon, my companions. I am talk-"

Bruce was bent over applying the final strokes to the head of the canvas. He was using a tempera painting technique. The technique consisted of combining different colors with a red water-soluble medium. Venus was the centerpiece of this canvas. He knew that it gathered a contemplative response from viewers; as seen by the explosion of his pieces on social media. In theory, when viewing Venus, her physical beauty portrayed was supposed to be a reminder of our animalistic tendencies which harnessed the ideas of divine love. The universe existed because of Venus. However, the populous of Earth and the planetary regions seemed to misinterpret this to no fault of their own. The global house and higher-class society convinced everyone, through social conditioning, that animalistic tendencies were gross and low-class. The population listened and was socially conditioned to be ashamed of these tendencies; enforced by those that surrounded them. Instead of being a society that cherishes the most beautiful thing ever granted in human existence, the ability to create life, it was the thing they were most ashamed of, told to be secretive of, and hide desire for.

There were dark red outlines in the painting, taking precedence over the colors used. In this painting the dark red outlines streaked down the canvas and dripped around Venus, the two circular figures to the top left and right of Venus, directed these streaks downwards. The canvas emphasized the contrast of a light peach background compared to the heavy red. He attempted to venerate Venus's beauty, leaving her largely untouched compared to the rest of the canvas.

"That is why, today, January 23rd, 2063, I am announcing..." the projection machine continued in the background.

"Oh, how am I supposed to cum while listening to this misogynistic geezer." Andrea says as she takes his hand off of her throat and removes the knife from her cheek.

"Hold on. To hell with them." she continues as she fumbles out of his grip, pushes the knife away, and walks to the living room naked to lower the projection station volume. She leaves a trail of the water of life.

He rolls over and stares at the trail like a child. He looks up and sees the rear of her figure through the doorway. The sunlight shining through the living room blinders highlighted the maroon red streaks and purple-black mountains that covered her.

"Oh honey baby, I like to think that I'm the next van Gogh or Vermeer." he can be heard saying from across the home while playing with the knife.

"Yea, why's that?" she asks while she looks back with a grin as she attempted to lower the volume on the station; the controller wasn't working.

"My paintings are evolving so quickly. What were once childish scribbles of meaninglessness are now up to par with The Starry Night, Girl with a Peal Earring, The Astronomer. Well, I would like to think so, anyways. Unfortunately, you're only good when other people say you're good. If you think you're good; you're cocky. You're not allowed to be confident these days. You're supposed to be insecure in the art world or else you're full of yourself. Such a sad world; having to fake humble for the sake of others. Yet we all look at the Mona Lisa and we're supposed to call it one of the best paintings the world has ever seen; I have never seen a more boring painting. Anyways, this piece I have created today has such perfectly densely laden, beautiful strokes rendered from a dark red palette. My personal expression brought to life in paint. I think I'll call this one the color of the water of my baby's life. Like all great paintings, this one provides a direct sense of how the artist viewed the world. How he or she interpreted the world through his or eyes, mind, and heart. In short, it looks I painted the next Last Supper on this beautiful canvas." he teases.

She tip toes back to the room; unable to fix the remote. Her feet can be heard sticking to the ground as she walked back. The projection playing from the global house was almost inaudible at this point compared to his words. His words pierced through her, more deeply than the knife, and melted all sense of her perception.

"Tell me more about it." she smiles as she comes back and poses in front of him with her hips facing him.

"Well. You barely squirmed. I'm proud of you. It came out nearly perfect. This water-on-canvas painting is covered by maroon red streaks. It is noticed on the entirety of the canvas and appears.... dominated, even defeated, with intense streak patterns that seem to drip across the entirety of the goose bump textured surface; similar to a honey drip."

She faces him and blushes. "The beautifully symmetrical head of the canvas is pocked with two dull violet orbs, carefully crafted, of which compliment the hazel eyes and sharp brows.

The crescent moon to the rear, on both sides, is marked with dark, dark red; contrasting the peach canvas." he says as he turns her around by grabbing her neck.

"And Venus on the opposing side. Well Venus is just beautiful the way it is. Untouched. Venerated by the openness it is given compared to the rest of the canvas. Associated with love and beauty. It's my artist tag in a way, it's featured on all of my paintings. The universe exists because of it." She sits on the bed facing him, legs spread apart.

"Above Venus lives a cultivated field with a garden and cypress tree. The trees reach almost to the top edge of the Venus, serving as a visual link between land and sky. Symbolically, the cypress could be seen as a landing strip to life."

She laughs masochistically. She couldn't take it anymore, she leans in to kiss him. He grabs her under the chin, pushes her back, and looks at her neck.

"The neck of the painting has 3 blue-black mountains, two on the left and one on the right. These mountains cover the canvas from head to toe; another reoccurring theme. For some odd reason, the world thinks they represent hate and destruction. For me, the sight of the mountains has always made me dream of love. The Color of The Water of My Baby's Life."

"Let's post this one?" she asked.

"You decide." He said as he took a picture and showed her.

"Great work, my little Van Gogh." She said as she scooched down, pressed post, and used both of her hands to remove his briefs. Their pupils dilated and heart rates increased. She inhaled through her mouth and shaked.

"Another one." she says while he gently taps her left cheek with his thumb and her right cheek with the knife.

The projection machine continues in the background.

"As hard as it may be, I ask that you report crimes against the age of companionship if you see them. Watch your fellow companions."

The sound of a thundering hit and her scream cracked through the air.