Friday, 24 October 2014
Lipstick and razors
She lived for her art.
The pride swelled within her each time she browsed her gallery.
Each one a masterpiece.
Each one a unique complex of curling swirls and whorls. Intertwining patterns interspaced with fine carvings and vignettes.
She surveyed her latest, her best to date in her opinion.
The memory of composition still fresh in her mind. The glint of bright light off steel still fresh in her eye. The feel of red swab still fresh on her fingertips.
And not an inch of skin without pattern.
Beautiful, just beautiful.
Yes, she lived for her art.
That others had to die for it mattered not.
©2014 Stephen. J. Green.