So I try and paint you. Because I was driving home last night and then, all of a sudden, someone turned the street signs turned into your smiles and the traffic lights into your eyes. Upon sketching out your jaw, the arc of your cheek, the nose line you so despised, I grow weary and elect to go with a sunset instead. Having limited canvas, I carefully rip your face in two, detaching the teeth from the smiling eyes, the upper from the lower. The symbolism disappears and what once resided on the backing of my scenery shot becomes a lone mouth: a strangers mouth. I erase it because it's none of my business.