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Index Author's Note:
Carmel, CA is a wonderful little artist colony about 2
hours south of San Franscisco. I stayed over one night over a weekend several
years back while out on the West Coast for training, taking the opportunity
browse the galleries. A lost-wax statue of a spanish dancer made me stop dead in
my tracks. To this day I remember it moving -- in the corner of my eye -- and
freezing still only when I turned to look. Isn't art wonderful ;-)
BTW, Benni was a bonsai.
It is perhaps unfair to express such complex emotions as artistic sensibilities in words, but lacking the more physical mediums of joy, I fall back on the creative combination of discrete thoughts. How can isolated words, ending in empty spaces, the severing edges of commas or the finality of periods ever hope to more than rekindle fading memories of reality frozen in bronze. her smile was bright, sad and contagious, and I knew that should I turn my eyes away for more than a moment, there was the distinct possibility that she would move! Light, shadows and the work's soul conspired to instill doubts as to her inanimatecy. How can I face my mate and confess that I now have a mistress? She would no doubt understand, for I was wed in part for my emotionalism, with a direct line to the seats of reason and passion. But still, this is new in its complexity and strength. First love, past. Deep love, commitment. Found love, my daughter. And now someone only inches high? (I cried when Benni died, for I never knew he had a soul 'till green had turned brown. But this time I can not weep, for she still lives. Only in my memory, collected at another place.) I want to see her again, but the distance will only grow. It is I who am frozen in time, and she who dances on forever in my memory.
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