tangible but not, this was how I painted him that I may see him everyday. As realistic as I could, soon I saw him stare back at me. But then I realized: even if his face was so close to mine, his eyes were distant, a gaze so lost. Even if my hands grazed over his, our fingers wouldn't entwine, a touch so cold. I was this close to having him by my side, but he was still so far away. You were realistic, but you weren't real.
sometimes i feel a connection with paintings, as it is with those pictures of you, wjh.