The dusty corners of my brain

Ezra frowned at the image and tilted his head from one side to the other. There was something distinctly familiar about it. It was as if he’d seen it someplace else. He bit his lip and then sighed.

“Morgan,” he called. He seldom invited anyone to see a work in progress. This, though, was a special case. He certainly didn’t want to go through the trouble of completing a piece, only to learn he’d subconsciously copied it – especially with how he copied things.

Morgan came in behind him and chuckled softly. “Ezra, love,” she said, pointing at the canvas. “You need to stop painting that picture.”

Ezra blinked. “It looked familiar,” he admitted, nodding. “It is one of mine, right? I’m not copying someone else, am I?”

“Oh, no,” Morgan said, still laughing. “That’s one of your originals. You’ve just painted it about eight times, that I know of.” She patted him on the shoulder and added, “It’s a little different each time, but the theme and elements are always the same.”

Ezra heaved a sigh and shook his head. “I can’t see why it keeps emerging from my subconscious,” he said. “Clearly, I’ve been missing something in the other iterations.”

“So, you’re going to finish it… again?” Morgan said.

Shrugging, Ezra said, “Only reason I was hesitant to do so was that I was worried it might not be my own work. It’s mine… I can paint it as many times as I please.”

“Whatever makes you happy,” Morgan said. Then, shaking her head in amusement, she returned to the other room, leaving Ezra to paint yet another image of a hollow tree in a field. Maybe, someday, he’d get it just right and he wouldn’t paint it again.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Heidi
    Jan 26, 2011 @ 13:10:53

    Some day we’ll both get that picture just right, though Ezra’s more likely to than I am since he’s so very talented.


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