In the Met and exhausted, staring at a pale green and golden brown stretch of body with hair, like vomit, over his head and falling from his cheeks. And the Prud'hon drawings stunned me... (But the book cost $75)
And I want my eyes like that-- agonized in pink and brown... ringed with sleeplessness in a golden robe... And I am surprised that I don't collapse now... and I am glad that they are always here, even if I am not. My eyes ache and ache and the wood floor entices me, rather than the concentration of contemplation...
tiny little lines... (In black and white chalk?)
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