elegance of a diva

time to change brushes .. Time to add the fiery flashy shiny over-coat..  I contemplated my jars of brushes… with the care of a woman picking her piece of jewelry at the last stages of getting ready for a party where she would be granted the diva of the year award… I looked at those wooden sticks marked with so many erratic scars, each with a story… They all had an elegant “coiffure”… (sable, synthetic, nylon; bristle heads)

I saw her.. winking at me.. elongating her neck, the one with many stains of gold, red and turquoise. She knew I always went back to her.. for rescue.. To end the surface and mark the ending with a splatter from her bristle. She knew I knew… I slowly approached her like a dancer would pick her partner for the last dance…