her medium was a bucket of paint
brushes sprawled all over her plastic-covered floor.
her spinning chair would be splattered with reds and blues,
and her face would be purple.
his medium was his grandfather’s camera
a roll of film ready to be used.
it was old, yes, but he swore the photos taken would never age.
they had their own definition of art.
they used different instruments.
the way they perceived the world was different.
but if there was one thing they had in common
it was that they had fallen deeply in love with each other.