Thursday, July 14, 2005
qi li xiang is playing.
so fast? or so slow? its thursday. still cant decide. lionel going on and on about how little time left we haf left to prelims and to da big As is juz scaarring da shit outta me. start noW start nOW start NOW(!!!) ra. and yet, here i am, blogging in front of my lousy old com. but on da other hand, yay! its thursday, there's OC and onetreehill.
im still as lost as ever. thankfully this time round i didnt qualify for another session of meeting da P. but barely scraping thru, wif wat WONDERFUL grades i got, does not make it any less of a big scary deal.
"..Now, let us begin again." He reached around to the cupboard behind him, picked up a earring, and held it out to me
"I want you to do it." I had thought I could ever be so bold.
Nor had he. He raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak, but did not say anything.
He steped up to my chair. My jaw tightened but I managed to keep my head steady. He reached over and gently touched my earlobe.
I gasped as if I had been holding my breath under water.
He rubbed the swollen lobe between his thumb and his finger, then pulled it taut. With his other hand, he inserted the earring wire in the hole and pushed it through. A pain like fire jolted through me and brought tears to my eyes.
He did not remove his hand. His fingers brushed against my neck and along my jaw. He traced the side of my face up to my cheek, then blotted the tears that spilled from my eyes with his thumb. He ran his thumb over my lower lip. I licked it and tasted salt.
I closed my eyes then and he removed his fingers. When I opened them again he had gone back to the easel and taken up his palette.
I sat n my chair and gazed at him over my shoulder. My ear was burning, the weight of the pearl pulling at the lobe. I could not think of anything but his fingers on my neck, his thumb on my lips.
He looked at me but did not begin to paint. I wondered what he was thinking.
Finally he reached behind him again. "You must wear the other one as well," he declared, icking up the second earring and holding it out to me.
For a moment I could not speak. I wanted him to think of me, not the painting.
"Why?" finally answered. "It can't be seen in the painting."
"You must wear both," he insisted. "It is a farce to wear only one.
"But - my other ear is not pierced," I faltered.
"Then you must tend to it." He continued to hold it out.
I reached over and took it. I did it for him. I got out my needle and clove oil and pierced my ther ear. I did noy cry, nor faint, or make a sound.
Then I sat all morning and he painted the earring he could not see, and I felt, the stinging like fire in my other ear, the pearl he could not see.The clothes soaked in the kitchen went cold, the water grey. Tanneke clattered in the kitchen, the girls shouted outside,
and we behind our closed door sat and looked at each other. And he painted.-Girl With A Pearl Earring
Tracy Chevalier
beautiful book.
Posted by paint me purple_ at 7:44 PM
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