Weary

I am simply too weary to be witty, scathing or sardonic today.

Instead, I am going to post a picture that makes me happy. I don't know why. This painting is called "Flaming June" and even the name makes me feel light-hearted. June...I feel like she could be my friend.

The color of her gown is vibrant and liquid...almost juicy. I can feel the gossamer folds, running like water between her thighs. The ocean breeze caresses her, and I can smell the the scent of her hair as it warms in the sun. I think it smells like jonquils and baking bread. She is relaxed, serene. I wonder if it is the sun that has warmed her, or a lovers touch. I wonder if its the exhaustion of ardor that tranquilizes her.

I am brimming with contemporary disquiet....I long for her contenment and langour. Sometimes I think that if I lie as still as she, and imagine the tang of salt on my lips...I can steal it away for just a moment. Its a thought that cheers me. I find solace in her. Perhaps you can too. Lord Leighton would be pleased, I think.

My beautiful friend, Flaming June

The Art of Lord Frederic Leighton

(Dedicated to me. Yes, I am in touch with my feminine side, but don't expect too much of that petticoat twisting frippery here, or I will be forced to repent. I hate repenting.)