Post by Harmony on Apr 24, 2016 16:39:37 GMT -8
Oh, Dear Mikhael,
There is not much good news to report. I've made an agreement with a Gentleman who will teach me French, in exchange for my sitting for a portrait for him. I didn't think to suggest that I try a self-portrait, though I'm not sure my skills are quite what they used to be. It would be good practice.
I did get to practice my sketching a little bit... while I was waiting...
I feel something warm run down my cheek, and there's a spatter of red that falls on the page. I try to wipe it off, but the spot remains tinted with the color. I use a handkerchief to mop the other drops that threaten to fall.
I was waiting for the Italians. They left to go to a place that would have made me uncomfortable, so I stayed behind. When they came back, the Angel told me that they would be leaving. For good. He gave me the address for where His new home will be in case I garter the courage to visit him... but I doubt I will ever see him again.
The rest of the night (with the exception of my talk with the Gentleman) was spotted with trauma... there was a girl who was killed. The man who did it... the feelings that he felt...
My hand is shaking and I take another moment to dry my eyes with the already bloody handkerchief.
He didn't need to do it. He wanted to... defile something. It was a similar feeling that I would always sense from... well, you know who.
I am so close to the brink of despondence. I feel I might shut myself in this apartment and never leave again...
...if it wasn't for the promise I've made to a Gentleman and a Rose...
Love Always,
~Harmony
P.S. Thank you for sending me Bernard. The Italian Angel gave me a "phone". I will have Bernard contact you with it, since I am not sure how to myself.
There is not much good news to report. I've made an agreement with a Gentleman who will teach me French, in exchange for my sitting for a portrait for him. I didn't think to suggest that I try a self-portrait, though I'm not sure my skills are quite what they used to be. It would be good practice.
I did get to practice my sketching a little bit... while I was waiting...
I feel something warm run down my cheek, and there's a spatter of red that falls on the page. I try to wipe it off, but the spot remains tinted with the color. I use a handkerchief to mop the other drops that threaten to fall.
I was waiting for the Italians. They left to go to a place that would have made me uncomfortable, so I stayed behind. When they came back, the Angel told me that they would be leaving. For good. He gave me the address for where His new home will be in case I garter the courage to visit him... but I doubt I will ever see him again.
The rest of the night (with the exception of my talk with the Gentleman) was spotted with trauma... there was a girl who was killed. The man who did it... the feelings that he felt...
My hand is shaking and I take another moment to dry my eyes with the already bloody handkerchief.
He didn't need to do it. He wanted to... defile something. It was a similar feeling that I would always sense from... well, you know who.
I am so close to the brink of despondence. I feel I might shut myself in this apartment and never leave again...
...if it wasn't for the promise I've made to a Gentleman and a Rose...
Love Always,
~Harmony
P.S. Thank you for sending me Bernard. The Italian Angel gave me a "phone". I will have Bernard contact you with it, since I am not sure how to myself.