Like time based art: music, plays, movies—there’s always a beginning, a middle, and an end. You are held by the suspenseful restrictions until it is over, all of which are directed by time. But paintings, they don’t have any of that. You can just gaze at a painting whenever you wanted and see what you want to see. It was created by pure imagination and desire, for no reason. That’s the beauty of a painting.
That’s how our love is…timeless. We looked at it whenever we wanted. We saw what we wanted to see. The imagination was kept alive by the consistency of our spontaneous dedication to each other. The desire was colored by the uncertain tour of this existence. We were a part of each other’s lives with a boundless essence. There were never rules. There was never a purpose other than itself—Like art.
Together we remain on this fascinating journey, me and you. I guess I’ve never realized the true meaning of love until this day. You have to just be— in the moment, together, ethereally, boundlessly. Just like a painting—timeless.
The masses are subconsciously searching for love. But, you have always been in my subconscious. Engraved like gold. You were the tangible form replacing this generic abstract ideal of love and devotion. Love was never in my subconscious. You were. Love has always been right in front of me— the kind of love that was defining, predictable, a cessation— time based art. There was always a beginning, a middle, and an end. I would feel the pang of constraint and couldn’t bare until it was over— like a bad movie. The only thing effortless was when my mind drifted into the abyss of our painting. It started as a painting ever since the day I met you. It was as if we carried those paint brushes for many lifetimes waiting for a canvas.