I believe in the incomprehensiblility of God
-Honoré Dr Balzac-
(Letter, 1837)
"You should come over sometime....hang out with me and Dapo."
"Abi, instead of living the rest of my life cooped up in this place right?" I leaned back into my pillows and looked towards the verandah where the sunlight was streaming in. Gradually, my gaze stilled as I observed the sunrise. The rays in an aesthetic mixture of red and gold permeated the glass doors and made their way gracefully into the room like an angel with blessings on each hand.
"Yes o, you deserve some time off." Seyi's voice rang through my consciousness.
Lost in the art of the sunlight, I had totally forgotten I was on the phone.
"Yeah, yeah. Um Seyi, do you mind if I call you back?" I asked her hurriedly getting off the bed and scrambling my way across the room to the large mahogany book shelf leaning against the wall.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yes, every thing's fine. Greet Dapo for me okay? Bye." I slipped my phone back into my pocket and got down on my knees in frantic search of the pack of paint brushes I placed there a few days ago while unpacking.
Dapo, short for Dolapo is a friend of Seyi's on campus who is also her roommate. Due to the fact that they were bunk mates and course mates too, I usually found them together anytime I looked for Seyi. Except she had any other thing to do, it wasn't so hard for her to tag along and so we quickly became friends too.
A stab of guilt washed over me concerning the nonchalant way I just dismissed Seyi's call but just as quickly, the creative mist that had clouded me dismissed the feeling.
Pushing aside the row of books from the middle out, I spotted the transparent nylon bag which I used to wrap the brushes sticking out from behind them. I reached out and grabbed it to pull it out but it was stuck. I pulled harder and the nylon tore on whatever it was caught on, letting go of the brushes as they all tumbled out.
I rested back on my folded legs and began sorting them out.
Brush 12, brush 5, brush 10, brush 6...
My eye skimmed across the numbers imprinted on the brushes and I nodded.
Complete.
Gathering them up in my small arms, I headed back to my bed, hoping the sunrise hadn't started slipping away.
Thankfully, it hadn't but I knew if I wasn't quick enough, I might just miss it before even getting so much as halfway.
I took a few more trips to the shelf before finally settling down in front of the glass doors and getting to work.
I dabbed my brush in the bottle of yellow oil paint and moved it against the canvas, my creative mind on full display as I imagined the sunrise over a lonely walkpath in the middle of nowhere.
I added a blob of red to the mix and began blending away.
An hour later, the sunrise had left and the day had fully broken, no sign of red and yellow in the skies anymore just the usual bright blue.
As for me, I was still on my canvas, the painting coming to life as my brush moved up and down, to and fro the white surface area. My clothes (what I wore to sleep) were covered in streaks of paint here and there as I didn't remember to tie on my apron before beginning but at least I had it on now and yeah it too was covered in paint.
My weave was tied up in a messy bun at the top of my head with a dozen tendrils escaping the bun.
I glanced briefly at my phone and back at the canvas, satisfaction washing over me as I proceeded.
Thank God I had quickly taken a picture of the sunrise before it slipped away so I didn't have to bother about committing the picture to memory.
