P O R T R A Y E D

''At the small table nearby was a paintbrush. I pick it up and hesitate before I let the tip touch the white board in front of me. The outline of a lake was what became of a few strokes from my hand. The blue water sparkling and deepening with every green shade I add. He smiles at me as I do what I always loved doing. The sky was a light blue and the clouds looked like white cotton candy.

My father takes a paintbrush from the glass and helps me. How it looked so alive, and bright. The simple things he adds takes it to another level. The dimension of the picture widens and makes it as though I could go through. As if, once he picked that brush up, he had cast a spell unto the painting and to whoever looks upon the wonderful piece. ''