Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
When the realisation dawned over me, that I didn't only admire the woman I see everyday in that park, that I liked her; it shocked me as well.
It was peculiar; the fact that I fell for someone without knowing her at all. Only knowing that she goes to that park and I go because of her. Everyday.
Earlier I kept thinking why? Now I know, it's because I like her.
And now I am ready to tell the tale that I desire to express.
The tale of unconditional, unknown love.
Jacinth was just a man who was sick in the head. His work, his life everything simple. But he had a passion.
A passion to draw, a passion to create beautiful things through his art. His head sickness was just a term people gave him. All because they couldn't understand his art, it wasn't even meant for those people. It was something worth a lot more, and that's why he never lost hope. He knew someday, someone would appreciate his art, someone would understand the meaning it carried.
After all art isn't meant for everyone, those who understand it; appreciate it. And those who don't; well they call the artists psychopaths.
But it's the truth, a hard truth. Artists are indeed psychopaths. It doesn't matter what the artist creates, whether it be a story, a painting, a song or anything else, the artist has to sacrifice a piece of his sanity to produce an artwork.
And that's the reason only some people know how to appreciate art. Because that piece of someone's sanity is hard to accept, and only those who know its value can accept it. Others just call it trash.
And a true artist never cares, because they know that their art is precious, if not to anyone else, it is precious to them.
So Jacinth kept creating, painting out his mind's sanity. Piece by piece of his own, originating masterpieces.
And on the first day of autumn, he painted a dull leafless tree, not in a way anyone would. He made a field, not green in any way. The grassy ground was black, the dry, leafless trees green as grass.
The structure and the color effects were phenomenal, but the shades were flipped from the normal perspective.
He understood what it meant, he knew why he painted it like that and that was enough.
He wanted to show the fact that all the time, people seek shelter under trees, use them and when the trees lose their leaves, get dried up, nobody bats an eye.
And that is not about trees.
And with a clear idea of my story, I went to the park again. Nothing happened like always.
She sat under the same tree where she always sits, and so did I.
I watched her from far and drew her.
And today, I captured more of her details than I did yesterday.
And that told me that I caught more feelings than I had yesterday.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
