Without a doubt, she was an artistic young woman. She loved to paint. She simply adored to express her own thoughts and emotions on an innocent blank white paper, which she amazingly changed into something viable and full of energy. She would somehow get energy from painting and would leave lots of pieces of emotions after her personal and relatively intimate time with watercolor, gouache and oil-based paint. She knew how to put colours together so that it would somehow make sense: looking at her paintings you could feel anger and desire, or childish naivety and joy. She managed to put her emotions on a piece of paper so perfectly that everyone would suddenly understand what is it and what exactly did she mean.
On a hazy Saturday evening, while she was simply looking over her previous paintings, she realized that she has never painted him. Not even gave it a try. But she has always wanted to, yet somehow never dared to. Even with her talent she was unsure whether she could capture the soft slope of his chin, playful dimples and full, passionate lips that she loved to touch. Yet this time something was different – either a full moon or a romantic vanilla candle inspired her – but she was excited. She simply took her notebook and started sketching.
She would take short tea breaks that would help her imagine him in different situations that she adored so much: smiling with his lip corners, looking at her passionately or simply giving her a good night kiss and hugging tightly. She wanted to depict each single facial muscle movement that he would use while smiling at her and tacitly saying something that she would keep in her heart for ever.
When he came back home, she was nearly done with yet another masterpiece that she had already fallen in love with even before she started. She decided to depict his face emphasizing his drowning water-blue eyes. “That’s pretty close!”, he seemed to be surprised. “We should try something a little bit more… erotic”, she was provoking him for a challenge and kissed him passionately.