Inspiration

It have been months since I could paint anything that was satisfying to me. Stuck on a painter’s block, I stared at the blank canvas in front of me. I was in a studio in city square, hoping a change of environment could fuel my creativity.

But so far, nothing.

I have eaten little for days. My stomach is growling, and my head was light. I couldn’t afford anything if I have no paintings to sell. This morning when I looked into the mirror, I could see the jut of my bones. I was getting thinner. I was disappearing.

The laughter from outside knocked me out of my trance. I slowly walked to the window. There were kids running around the market square, their faces carefree and happy.

Suddenly, they stopped in their tracks and started clapping.

A tall man appeared and pulled out a violin in a case. The children cheered.

Music flowed out of the violin effortlessly. The notes danced around, at times light and bright, at times deep and foreboding. They told perhaps of a forbidden romance, or perhaps a family drama, or even a long awaited vengeance. Pictures appeared in my mind one after another.

I dashed back to my canvas and started painting.