It was not connected to a bathroom, but it was bigger, with pale blue wallpaper and a faux fireplace. With its tall windows draped with opulent green and pink satin curtains and a small chandelier hanging from the ceiling, Clémence was sure that Rose would be comfortable there. When Clémence got up early Monday morning, Rose was still sleeping. The night before, she had helped Rose call the boss at her PR company to explain why Rose needed to take the week off. As Rose slept, Clémence thought she could make a quick trip to Berenice’s house to pick up Miffy.
I didn’t understand! I had never practiced so well for a performance -- even my teacher had confidence in my preparation. Yet, I also broke down on stage like I never did before. For years, I didn’t understand what went wrong in that performance. Each subsequent performance was a dread, despite the fact that I spent hours a day perfecting my craft in that cluttered practice room, my furrowed brows in the path of the golden ray of light that streamed in through the window every evening.
Inside, they went up to the third floor, to the painting Amy never got tired of seeing. They stood in that same spot two years ago. Then they held hands and laughed timidly. He leaned down to whisper in her ear and said “What’s wrong?” “Oh nothing, just had a flashback, you know.” she said, and shook her head in false irritation. She pointed at the painting and softly said, “That’s my favorite, I love it.” They spent the entire day at the museum taking visuals of different artists and trying to fix their relationship, maybe things would become better, maybe Dominic can develop an understanding, and maybe he can just understand Amy’s love for him.
Most nights Lew played video games or watched crap TV all night and slept all day but always aware of Molly’s comings and goings. “What kind of business does a stripper have at 5:00am?” Even though they lived on the same floor and shared the stairs that led to their apartments they hadn’t run into each other but a few times in the two years he had lived there. The first meeting was on the stair case. “Hey, I’m Lew.” “I’m Molly.” “How long have you lived here?” “About 5 years.” “Have these fucking stairs always been like this?” “Yep.” Molly opened her door, walked in without saying another word. They had met a few more times but it was always a superficial greeting.
Reefy started smoking a cob pipe and sat in his empty office by a window that he never opened. On a hot summer day the doctor tried to open the window but when the window did not budge, Reefy did not attempt to reopen the dusty window again. Reefy was so devastated about his wife passing away that he did not care about him self for over ten years. The young woman was well off and needs to find a husband to help her take care of the farm that she inherited from her parents. She was tall, dark, and beautiful with lots of money.
“I don’t have a bathing suit. It’s in the suitcase I left on the cruise ship.” “Use Aunt Jenn’s bathing suit. It’s hanging in the bathroom.” Tara chuckled. I couldn’t fit in Jenn’s bathing suit on my best day. Her sister taught aerobic and weight training classes several times a day and her hard work paid off.
It had been this way for almost six months, only two more months to go until the twins where born. His secretary at work was a whole different story. She never wore track pants, never had a huge bulging stomach and she wasn’t an emotional wreck either. As you can probably imagine, he slept with her, left his wife and the two unborn kids, gave a huge sum of money to his wife to sign the divorce papers without a fuss and gave her the house. That was the end of him, never seen again.
As top chief at a new restaurant in town, she was stressed to the max dealing with a full staff and managers who like telling her what she should do. At the time, she was also dealing with a messy breakup from her fiancé of 9 months. After about 4 months of this constant stress Maria decided she was going to take a week off and let her staff run the restaurant. However, she did not show to work after her week off and no one had heard from her in four days. One of her close friends went to her house to check on her and noticed she had not moved from the bed it what seemed a couple days.
As I stepped into the tub, I turned on the shower and stood under the tepid water. I stared at this pale wall in front of me for 30 minutes. It was quite unusual of me to just stand there and do nothing since I love taking showers. I know I wasn’t feeling emotionally well that night. After I took my “not so delightful” shower, I sat immediately on the couch in the TV room and watched my favorite Filipino channel.
Frida Kahlo is inarguably the most famous painter from the twentieth century because she puts such emotion into her paintings. She put her own reality into every painting that she ever fabricated. She never painted stories or fiction, she only painted what she saw in her own mind, and what she saw in her mind was her life. Much of her life was bad, and much of her life was good, but it was all on canvas, and it’s all open to interpretation. If her paintings mean something specific to a specific person, Frida would say that is all that matters.