I couldn't stop thinking about the painting. Even as I did mine- a dying rose with a blue background. I left a message on the wall, next to his; "The Yellow is Yours right? Or maybe not?"
The question kept ringing in my head, 'what's your boldest stroke?' , as I made dinner for pa while he ranted about how the townsfolk- his customers- treat him like shit. He usually does this each time we were back from the shop. And I sat on the couch, adjacent to him, unable to focus on the two hundred and seventh chapter of the book war and peace. I just kept thinking of his words,'what's your boldest stroke?'.
I used to take art lessons before, but pa was unable to continue funding it. But Mr Bowen told me something related to the phrase on my mind; 'A painting may either be enhanced or destroyed because of the painter's strokes. Ambitious strokes destroy a good painting because of the idea of a Better one. One.
But the thing with boldest strokes in a painting, was the fact that people choose to ignore the smaller ones.'
I'm not sure how this applies to real life, but I'll keep the last part in mind; Ambitious strokes destroy a good painting because of the idea of a Better one.
My phone vibrated on the chair beside me;
T-[ He texted me...]
K-[ He who??]
T-[ Austin]
K-[ ??]
T-[ He said he saw a weird painting next to his on the wall.]
K-[ WEIRD PAINTING!!!!]
T-[Was it you??]
K-[ If you had listened, maybe you'd have heard I said I WAS GOING TO PAINT!!]
T-[??]
K-[!!]
T-[And he got your message]
K-[ You know, I wonder when you'd crash this chat up of a thing]
T-[Me too!]
K-[Ha ha. Very funny!!!]
"Kimyeoun-Jun! Get me some pepper for this soup, will you?" Pa said in Korean - more like an order than it was supposed to be.
"Okay." I replied and got up, then headed for the kitchen with a sigh. I picked the pepper shaker, and headed back to the comfy softness of the couch.
I picked up my phone, and sat on the chair with a plop;
T-[So what's your boldest stroke?]
K-[Uh, what's that supposed to mean?]
T-[(1)photo]
She sent me a photo of the wall, where my painting stood next to his, in huge contrast, and she circled his question in a thick red, uneven circle;
K-[??]
T-[Really?]
K-[It depends on how you choose to see it]
T-[C'mon, you knw wht I mean]
K-[ Knw? Wht? Seriously?]
T-[ Duh, they're not like Grav's or ENOLA!]
K-[That may be my boldest stroke yet]
T-[??]
K-[ You know, criticizing you]
T-[ Oh come on do that all the time]
K-[ Really? I don't relate.]
T-[ If we were to go down that lane, we won't see the end of it]
K-[ Whatever you say NAOMI!!!]
T-[ NAOMI!! Are you kidding? You're a Grandpa sometimes. Goodnight. See you at the town square tomorrow,BY TWELVE!!]
And she went offline. I chuckled to myself, and went offline also. I sighed deeply. That didn't go as planned, she's definitely angry with me- or maybe not. One never knows with girls these days...