She was looking to the empty and white canvas, without knowing what to paint… In that small room full of easels and forgot paintings. These were the only ones that tried to brighten up her bittersweet studio which was part of her entire life. Faded photographs from her days of happiness and fame were hanging on the grey walls. However, the enormous windows were the open door to nature, but now they don’t mean anything. Black curtains cover them and only a small beam of light can enter the room.
It was a rainy autumn morning. The rain was banging heavily into the window. She doesn’t mind. The monotonous gray clouds and the trees with no leafs were so obvious in her life lately. The funeral echoes of Handel’s songs resonate in her mind. She can’t sleep and she hasn’t eaten for ages.
She’s sitting in her corner, singing herself to sleep. Besides, she’s feeling as a violin without its strings. The old guitar stays in front of her – no one wants to play it anymore. She’s feeling the anger she never felt before. She wants to scream, to wake up from this horrible nightmare. But she can’t do it. She can’t even cry – there are no tears left. He took them all. He took everything she got. He only left there his guitar.
He’s not there anymore with her – she has to accept it although she can’t. The memories are chasing her. She still feels his breath on her neck, his smooth whispers, his kisses, his arms around her... She can even see flashes of the candles. She still remembers those days they were together, those days nobody could separate them and nothing bad could happen. Those were moments of bliss…
Now she’s alone with the pieces of a broken heart in her hands. She’s staying there wrapped in the darkness of the shadows he left, in the illusion of the past they’ve been through together. She can’t blank out his voice ringing in her head, the wonderful words he said when he left. He will never know how hard it is for her to get over it. No, he will never know he hurt her lovely and pure soul.
The winter is falling over her. Doubts kill her quietly and she can’t move. She’s frozen with all the pictures torn on the icy floor. She became what she didn’t want to be –the slave of her own memories, a rag doll in the hands of nobody. ‘Why? What happened to your soul, darling? When did you lose it? Why did you listen to him? Where is your passion for art left? He took everything from you. He took your love, all your memories, your life and even your art, the thing you always loved and now he’s gone. How could you let him do that to you, angel of broken wings? How?’
The moon is now on the clear sky. The trees in front of the studio are covered with snow. She remembered how happy she was when she was younger, she remembered Christmas, the presents, the family she had forgotten and her friends. ‘How could he change me so much’, she thought.
Then, she tried to get up and walk easily towards the window. She pulled out the curtains. The moonlight caressed her hair and her pale face. She began crying, but now she was crying of happiness. She was feeling at least free.
The canvas was still on the same place but even though she missed painting a lot, she didn’t do it. She looked through her studio window, sat in her armchair and admired the scenery. Finally, she fell asleep.
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