"First you dip your brush lightly in water and make light confident strokes on the paper. Then you dab your brush in colour and follow the water strokes." Your brush caressing the paper like a tender lover; colour swirling on the canvas, dancing to your tunes. I watched as your large fingers guided the small brush around with such dexterity that I thought your hand was shivering.
I watched as the colours trickled through the path you made for them. I gazed as shapes began to appear unwittingly.
I wondered how it would be to be the colour at the tip of your brush; to be gently guided across an empty dance floor. And then I'd dance. And when I'm tired, I'd rest. And as I rested, I'd become part of a beautiful landscape.