Every stroke he made with his paint brush is as accurate as he stroked her soft hair with his long fingers.
The movements are light but full of intense passion and burning desire. From hair, sparkling eyes, breasts, curves and edges. All are projected with curiosity and openness.
She became his masterpiece.
As the canvas wet with paint, and so the sheets with sweat.
Together, countless paintings were made.
Yet, the fire stops in the middle of the night and the beauty is curious no more.
For the colors became dull as the image became just a painting.
The night with a painter became a memory.
Purely evidence of what they had is real.