Once Upon a Canvas

A canvas contains the framework of life. It speaks, creates, mourns—and[1.1] what more?[2.1]—preserves.[3.1]

The painter and his brush coexist to create thousands of ideas that come to[4.1] life. Would he rather show them to the audience—to make them feel the same fulfillment as he did? Or start anew, signifying a present-day journey?[5.1]

Though that’s not what troubles him… it’s the truth of facing reality. No matter how hard he tries to change what has already happened, it will stay the same.

Once more, he gives it a try. He stands in front of the canvas that remains vague, albeit responsive[6.1]. He bravely lifts his brush ever so slightly, dipping it with his favorite color. The tip of the brush touches the smooth surface despite his fear of messing it up again. Alas, he begins to create not with his mind, but with his heart.

A familiar figure emerges from the canvas—as if he’s delicately capturing every detail. He paints for hours in somber, saying nothing. But hearing everything.

It was years ago. He never looked back at the unfinished canvas after she left.

Each stroke fe[7.1]lt like pain, yet it heals. His head lowers like a crooked rose. Tears mixing with the paint, then he uses it as a final touch to his canvas. Something definitely changes— this time, for sure. He puts the brush down and steps back. And for the first time in a while, he smiles. He engraves his name on the bottom of the canvas, with peace and contentment.

The canvas has seen it all—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Now… he preserves it. The painter covers it with a silky fabric—protecting his masterpiece from the dust. Finally, he picks up his brush, a new canvas, and starts painting.

Although not to forget—

But to live.