What Do You See?
I wanted to know them, I wanted to get inside their heads, understand why them. Why are they the people I spent years, without doubting happiness, with? I thought I knew them, but maybe the only reason I did was because every time I see them, they’d be accompanied with all the unforgettable memories. The only reason I was right beside them at that moment was because they linger in this unfinished portrait, some call life.
I couldn’t really understand the colours, or the contents of this masterpiece, and it wasn’t as big as I had imagined it to be. There were lots of people; some very clear with permanent outlines and others were sketches awaiting time to rub them off. I was fond of grey scribbles at some point in the portrait, elsewhere I would notice the bliss of rainbows splashed all over, and at distinct corners I would see nothing at all, just black empty areas. There were hazy, not so sharp drawings of things, people, and thoughts that weren’t left, right, nor even centered; they were lost in between all the other unanswered flow of paintbrushes.
“What do you see?” I asked them.
“The sea!” they answered in utter surprise.
They stayed silent for a while and continued, “That wasn’t the answer you wanted.”
I rephrased, “Look beyond. What do you see now?”
They looked at each other, the devoid of cynicism and trivial was what they needed, but all they could see was plainly, only and nothing more than the sea.
I told them to forget realism for a minute, (regardless of how long a minute could be once reality is ignored) and to look again. It was my last try, and I wasn’t enjoying my failure of exploring their alone place.
I felt their discomfort; I sensed how they were irritated they couldn’t give me, let alone, themselves an answer to a very simple, yet unanswered question.
“I don’t know…… I’m blank.” One answered.
“The memories I had on the shore, the touch of the sea so tender yet cold.” Answers another one.
“A gorgeous mermaid at the end of this horizon.” Whispers the last one.
“I see a stagnated sea, a tranquil sea, a human being at times who is empty of inner voices, just a free soul. The sea reflects the sun as diamond crystals scattered on a glitter-blue bed, yet beneath the beauty of this bed lays a cushion of darkness, not soft but rough. Underneath the bed, hides the weakness of a person, the weakness of the sea’s underwater creatures. The sea awaits the simplest of winds to crash in anger, much like humans do. The crest of each wave is our dominance against the world, and the sea’s spindrift is each and every proof to how powerful we can become.” My portrait drew silently.
And as I took one last look at the unfinished portrait, I wasn’t sure it possessed a paintbrush for each and every answer. I understood it wasn’t the empty corners, or the frameless borders that was missing, but what truly was missing all along were the questions and their unanswered answers.