I feel sad that I did nothing at the time to support her in any way. I didn't offer her a ride, didn't give her cash, or even give her some of the bounty I'd just gotten at the store. I still see her in my mind's eye...no face as it is always obscured by her protective plastic layer, instead only her wiggling limbs.
And I must have been only one of hundreds who saw her that day, and for the vast majority she was likely lost in the background of their commute.
As I painted in the warmth of my home later that morning I pondered a painting I'd picked up, tweaked, put down, and reworked over a period of a few weeks. It was intended to be a background with something added to its surface that would be the actual focus, but every time I looked at it I got lost in the background. Lost in a good way. And then I found I had no idea which way was up. So I opted to leave it as is, unsigned, anonymous.
And then I thought of the anonymous, shivering lady in plastic, lost in the background...and I wondered if she sometimes can't figure out which way is up.
|Which way should I go?|
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