Daydream 11.17
What is it like, I continued on, to be the woman in the painting whose draped body hints at seduction
but whose half averted and blank face suggests she has gone someplace else,
a place I can only imagine, a memory or a daydream, where she leaves behind, if only for a few moments, the weight of the day to day?
Wanting to know, I went to meet her there.
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