Much like a Turkish delight, when the evening rolled around, I enjoyed the taste of the cold breath on my neck while I sat outside and read the evening news. My first love was drawing. I found her lurking around the corners. She was hiding from the daylight since no one would look at smile. She was looking for someone to be pleased with her and one lonely evening, she came to my door and asked me for my name. She was the first liberal education that took my breath away. She was the naughty daughter of the peasant preacher, the protestant wife’s child who loved to be shrewd and talk naughty words in your ear. My heart sought after her. I lingered around the break of dawn, right when the sun would rise just to feel her, and when she walked to me like a bright idea, her delight took me by surprise and the way she called my name was that of a person that loved who I am. Since the moment I met her, I no longer thought about my previous duties. I started letting her undress me in character, and the taste of her whip made me feel closer to her than the wounds my father laid on me when I was a child. She was bitter sweet yet the more I spent time with her, I loved her presence.
With the stroke of my pen, I was her husband. With the stroke of my pen, I was her bright sunshine rising in the morning to take her out on a date. Before the sun said goodbye at the end of the day, after the birds chirped no more, she lingered with me, in thought, helping me find the best of myself. When the moon was way up in the sky, when the sky was beaming with starlight and people wanted to gaze at them in delight, she was in my bed with me, keeping me happy away from the drama of the population. She was never my freedom, neither was she my liberty.
When I was delighted with her, It was often because I wanted to be her subject and gave her my time. I gave her the best that I could, and with every effort, I was rewarded with good art. To this day, I do not think I believe in freedom or liberty much. Oftentimes, in search of one, we as persons lose a government. Freedom in a sense becomes useless, because if I wanted to be free, I 4
would have to leave her alone and go far far away into a distant land where the stroke of the brush has never been seen, or the slight movement of the pen has never been used, like an employment at your local grocery store. More often than not, when I was myself in a position of employment, looking to earn money, I found myself free and away from her. More often than not, when I wanted freedom, the only paths I could take were going for a drive, or going to the beach somewhere just for the sake of going to a beach. The more I sought freedom, the more I was away from her. Pretty soon her attraction was kind of growing on me, I wanted to be her subject all the time. I wanted to be by her side whenever I could and started to make the time for it. In return, her rewards were great. Eventually, I started to realize that liberty worked quite in the same way. The more I found liberty, I wanted to administer it to other humans all across the community. In constant advocacy for liberty, I was also moving away from her again. The papers were looking empty by the day and the work was not getting done. In constant struggle to make time for her, I realized liberty itself was another problem that needed to be dealt with.
Distracted I may have been, and the sweet taste of liberty on the top of the tongue although oftentimes the best feeling of them all, the liberation was anti-affection. I was not able to fully give her my time. I think there were points where I wished I was by her side when I was not yet the nature of freedom and liberty is very appealing. They are basic requirements. They should be something everyone has from the beginning. They are the basic wants of human beings that exist from birth. They are by your side at all times and I do not think they should be the central point of any political campaign. There are no feelings nor are there any points of passion to follow when it comes to liberty and freedom. I think more often than not, they are identical in practicality. They exist in nature, untouched yet as a result of their value, they become a 5
distracting point for any artist, and especially in my case, a lover. The divine being that she is, I believe she has more to give than anyone can ever achieve.
Much like a family member, it was then she introduced me to her sister, painting. If drawing and painting were the protagonists of the story, then freedom and liberty would be the antagonists of the story. When painting and I met, she was dressed in all white, her canvas was shining like the twinkling gleam in the north star. Much like the morning sun, I rose early in the morning to meet her. She introduced me to all of her children, for she had many. Their names all together were colors. Her children were delightful and soon enough, I grew closer to her favorite child, red. Red and I started most of our work together. Whenever I wanted to travel large distances, or (wanted to create a masterpiece (in the normal nature of the language of painting)), I often started the journey with Red. Red was sort of majestic in nature. He was her favorite child because she would tell me how hard it was for her to speak well on behalf of her well beloved son. He was not well kept nor was he the best at making his voice heard. He liked to conquer but his dormant nature often needed an accomplice. I tended to be that person who gave Red his time of day. I think since painting demanded more of my time than drawing, I had to prepare long moments before the canvas, the oil and the colors were ready. The conversations had to be ready.
The time we spent with each other was among my favorite because once I left my first love, painting was just around the corner, waiting for me to warm her with my tough tales. My stories started with serious and ominous tones. I tell her about the ambitions I have and in return, I get a panorama of a city I would rule over. I tell her about the long distance I traveled to get to her house, the narrow roads carved with precision and dark corners crossed through fear, after which I get rewarded with realities brought out from the darkness.