IMANI

1

Unedited

Art has always been Imani's safe heaven. A place where she got to be truly herself . She has always loved anything about art, Dancing, singing, painting, drawing you name it. She was fascinated by it.

She was just so drawn to it. Imani realized she could paint and draw when she was 10. Her art teacher, Miss Aj said she saw potential in her and she just needed a push to unlock it and she did when she lost her parents. With art a story could be told and Imani loved this about it, as she wasn't the most expressive person.

Miss. Aj always said "Imani you my dear are a star and you'd shine so bright " in a very nasal high pitched tone dramatizing each word. Her hippie dressing always made her look funny and she smelled funny too like urine, often said she let her natural scent ooze.

"Gregory Afolayan Art Gallery", Imani sighed as she read out loud while staring at the large sign that already had some peels behind, probably due to the Sun. The weather had been terrible lately. She had been so tempted to come out today with her underwear. Her face had darkened due to the harshness of the sun.

Imani would probably be the only one to notice the peeling on the sign because she always paid rapt attention to details.

For two years now, Imani has been an anonymous painter in the gallery. Her pieces had either been the highest bid or the second highest bid each time an auction was held but no one ever knew she painted them. She liked her anonymity, she wasn't ready for any spotlight. She just wanted to paint.

Imani adjusted her T-shirt that had the inscription "I'm not a feminist but respect me" before passing through the back instead of the front door. Greg always let her come into the back for the sake of her anonymity. Greg called her strange for wanting to be anonymous.

"Imani! My girl " Steve said grinning so much it made his eyes become little He tipped his non existent hat at her. Steve was in his early 30s but his receding hairline made him look like he was way older. His lanky body and long legs always made Imani scared that he could break or one day be blown away by the wind. He was the janitor.

"Steve! My guy" Imani said back laughing heartly.

"Where's Greg?" Imani asked while using her eyes to scan the area. Greg was usually parading the gallery this time of the day taking account of which paintings needed a dust or not, especially with an auction coming up soon.

"He should be around somewhere" Steve said shrugging his shoulders.

"That was so helpful" rolling her eyes and walking away
Steve chuckled as he picked up the mop to continue his job.

Imani was too lazy to look for Greg and she didn't want to get sucked up in each painting, monitoring every stroke of the artist, interpreting the story the artist was trying to tell but it was too late as she was already entrapped by one.

The painting was almost as if it was done by a child but a broken child or an angry one. You couldn't tell because the strokes didn't have a regular pattern. They had a rough pattern to it. It was probably by a new artist, the watermark seemed new.

That was what she loved about Greg, he took his chances on a new artist. He took her first amateur painting and sold it at figures she thought she would never see in her life. She wasn't into art for the money or fame, she hoped whoever bought her paintings understood the story she was trying to tell. She always hoped the person wasn't buying it just for beautification but also because the story touched them.

"Is that my favourite artist I see?" Greg's voice snapping Imani out of her thoughts.

Greg was that guy you'd hear girls say they'd kill to be his baby mama. He was standing at a proud height of 6'2. He made sure to remind Imani every time that he was taller and could see the middle of her head. She wasn't short, Greg was just too tall.