I stare at the painting, sitting on the easel, on the other side of my studio. It’s a painting of a girl whose name I don’t know and who I’ve never seen before.
But even though I’ve never seen her, I know she’s out there, somewhere— moving around and breathing and living her life, and I know that if she continues traveling along her current path – in a month, or maybe six months, or maybe even as long as a year from now – the images I just painted will become her reality.
