The ARt-Tist stands at the studio cigarette between two fingers, as the glowing red cherry lights the window up, shadows of the curves dance -right arm tucked nicely under the left elbow.Weight a little to the left so hip tilts inward. Gray shirt with paint of many long lost thoughts, whirled with colors the rainbow has yet to create, long sleeved hanging of the shoulder-torn jeans all washed out tattered, torn, knees exposed with thighs bare and white hints of woman but portrait of an artist..Look down as the rain keeps coming, the skies darken and still yet waits for sound of "the applause" the "silence"..realizing then that the sound is merely the rain pelleting the pavement catches one more drag red embers fall, turning to ash..How Apporpos..No Audience.
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