VERBOTEN

As the dawn approaches in mark of another day, she finds herself wandering down this familiar path once again. This same route had once been well approached, yet there is something new about the air that was luring and scented with discovery. It is quiet. Serene. Although deserted and isolated in a way, sorrow does not occupy her mind. Until the busy world awakens, she will remember to savor the sweet taste of solitude before its dissolving.

And then there is the wind. It was a particular gust of wind that had traveled to countless places- always looking but never really searching. Perhaps it is the nature of being carefree, of not being settled to one place; perhaps it had seen too many emotions of this world. This wind was spontaneous and frequented- and most of all, free - but carefully hidden was its dance tainted by a broken heart.




One day, she finds herself stopped at a fork in the dirt path she was standing upon when she felt a familiar surge of warmth and tenderness rush through her veins. That particular, broken gust of wind had found its way to another soul by accident. For a moment, she stood and pondered that familiarity while taking in its careful embrace that continued to envelope her body. She stood and listened to its melancholy whispers and then remembered.

They've met before?

They have met before.



With each wind's breath that touched her skin, she understood the wounds that have been forged while they were apart. The wounds that she ended up craving to heal, and heal those wounds she did. For a moment, the wind forgets that its soul had once been shattered; and for a moment, the girl found something sweeter than her newly found solitude.

It continued as a dance- tender at first and then greedy for more. Every chasse, every cabriole, every tangle of limbs and outburst of breaths worked to push away those broken pieces and rid the wind of its glorious grief stricken anguish. And damn, was it ever glorious because without it, she would not have been able to find the beauty amidst the storm. Without it, she would not have fallen so terribly and wrongfully in love.




Verboten. Alas, it had to become. It is strange to experience a feeling of loss when something was never hers to begin with. When impossible becomes a reality. When a broken heart has mended, it is swift to recede. She walks along the dirt path that is once again familiar; but sometimes, this time, the silence is

absolutely


deafening.

Artist's Comments

In such a dynamic world, we often get sucked into a vortex of love and lust and greed and fantasy. Every once in a while, we are forced to snap back to reality and only then can we realize that there are some things that can never be ours.

As our eyes graze through the busyness of this painting and travel along each stroke from the brush, it is interrupted by fragments of transparency. It allows the literal reality of the background to be a part of the painting, reminding us: do not let your eyes linger along the lines across the canvas for too long. Do not get lost in the vortex when reality was right in front of you all along.