Post by trinity giselle mimieux on May 17, 2011 11:47:36 GMT -4
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Her mind was well engulfed into the novel that laid in front of her. She had curled up in the small couch in the classroom. The classroom of artistic talents and commotion. But today, after school, it was quiet. Not even the teacher was in the room. It was Trinity and Brave New World by Huxley. She flipped the page, silence overbearing, but not to Trinity. Her eyes were plastered to the lines of words. John the savage seemed to have so many problems adjusting to the dystopian society, Trinity wrote it down. She was making sure that she fully comprehended this novel. She didn’t have friends, so she had lots of time for studying. She had looked at the canvases set up earlier when she first walked in, and from time to time she’d gaze at them. She had yet to be in this classroom, so to her, it was all one big mystery as to whom this classroom belonged to. There was definitely a peak of interest.
She put her book down, and left the table neat as she left her notes along the table as well. Her main interest was the canvas, it was blank and the paint was RIGHT there, so she knew she had to. She picked up a brush and started making light strokes, letting the acrylic sink down, and then she swiped it up. Surrealism always interested her, but at this point, she didn’t even know what she was painting, she just knew she was. About twenty minutes passed by and she saw the outline of a woman and a man. It was twenties inspired judging by the hair of the woman and both their outfits. They seemed to be separating. She started making smaller details, only painting in black. Until she filled in the red lips of the flapper girl. Unknowingly, she continued, a small painting, nothing too serious.
She set the brush down, her hand stained with black splotches. She wasn’t aware of how much conviction she had put into the painting, it wasn’t supposed to be anything serious…She stared at her hand, and then moved towards the sink. She saw the giant sink with five different washing stations, the faucet tightly sealed to prevent leakage. She definitely knew she needed to take this class, art. It was a favorite of hers. She loved reading, painting, instruments and all that other jazz, no pun intended. She was careful not to stain her short white summer dress, but her long locks of caramel threatened to get in the way when she leaned forwards and started to wash her hands. She tried blowing at them, but instead, giving up and finding it futile, she let her hair create a curtain around her face as she scrubbed her hands and cleaned the brushes.[/size]
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•ATTIRE| isnt it cute? <3
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