These artists...

These vertical blinds streamline the light pouring into the bedroom

I sit at the desk, gazing far into the blank monitor...feeling equally blank

There is barely any reflection in the matte curvature.

I can make out the silhouette of my face, whether staring back at me or not, I can't tell.

What did I learn from the past three days, what do I take home?

He spoke intelligently, in control , from authority and I listened intently

Of mediums, values, textures,...of light, of sculpting, of compositions.

It resonates, as it should.

My mind travels back to you forming a narrative ...the world is yours, you had said...

What then? Where then? These trimmed lines of light potentially diffuse to brighten up any darkness, any.

Your thoughts illuminate arcane corners in me. A reverie , an abstraction.

He had sat in the high armchair , the light framing it, peering through his glasses severely,

He entertained this traveler with indulgent small talk.

Speaking of fashion, it's personal expression, ' the costume ' and egged me to dwell up on that thought...

Thought of it being a costume.

I had always entertained the imagery of masquerade, the masks, the facades, but a costume, with changing personalities..

It tickled me slightly. I WAS amused. He succeeded in being a fine host.

I shall take this back certainly. To home. To another world.

Where we live. To adapt...

We morph, each day, evolve into newer beings than yesterday, possibly. Or stay stationed . And die. Or the opposite...