A drop of coffee in white heavy milk, in between settles a coffee bean. His blink distracted me from concentrating to his eyes. The water line had a very thin layer of water, such sparkly eyes! He had heavy eyelashes. I took a sip of tea and started mixing the colors. A bit black, but it was not jet black completely. His eyebrows were tough to match the ranges of color available. Why do men have such good eye brows? He frowned and I put a wrong stroke. “My phone vibrated, sorry!” he excused. The expression showed how tough it was for him to sit for hours. He had a distance of one inch in half scale between his eyebrows. Four to five inches in height was his forehead. Did you ever notice the color of a diffusing brew and cream? It was his complexion. The fine three thinner lines on his forehead showed a glimpse of his stressful life. I moved upward and there lies a mole on his hairline. The length of his hair is approximately two inches. His hair was much easier to paint, such perfection it was. My brush slipped to his ears, one third of his ear was covered by the beauty sitting beside him. Ending the ear, my brush took a forced stroke joining his sharp jawlines. The end formed a maximum curve enhancing his chin. The left of his face was easily painted because of the “almost perfect” symmetry. His nose was a bit wider in proportion to his eyes and lips. The highlighted broken nose bridge was perfection after tons of errors. Down came his lips. They were pressed. I was struggling with his stumble; the denser it got the magnificent he looked. I was searching for the darker tone, while I noticed the girl beside, pressing her lips to his cheek. I continued with his dimples and laughing lines. I followed it lining his neck then his shirt. A caramel brown shirt it was. Following his arms my eyes caught the girl’s ring on her finger, pretty it was. She was holding his arms. I skipped it. It was an error by purpose. I stroked his sleeves a bit harsh. I detailed the stitches and button but did not portray the girl. I excused them.
After they left, I sat with the portrait with a candle beside. Everything is more beautiful with a candle. I corrected every single error identified. For the first time I was in love with the errors. It was pleasant to draw and redraw. Nothing was missed. I witnessed his sparkly eyes, brewed complexion, tired frown lines, patient lips. Still something was missing. I gazed for hours. The candle turned one fourth. I was lost. I never felt this way before. I had been in practice for years; never was I this helpless. Someone please show me my fault in this portrait. I tried changing the background color, in case it enhances. But it didn’t. I put the portrait a side and felt asleep beside.
The night was not much long. I woke up when the shiny ray touched my eyes. I freshened up, dressed well. As regular I was sipping my cup of tea, the strong one. Suddenly the doorbell rang. I put the cup on the floor, beside the portrait. I opened the door, the girl entered and I was standing, waiting for him. I was a bit anxious knowing he is not coming. I slammed the door hard. I went back to room with harsh steps and I did it! I splattered my tea over the portrait. There came out the real meaning, those disturbed frowns finally showed that the reason behind those frowns and those expressions. I smiled I laughed and I cried. I was so happy finally I did it! It was such a peace!
At times we forget what is actually beautiful. We seek perfection in life, but is perfection really beautiful? At least an error must show its presence to enhance the true beauty of the whole thing. Then what? The colors felt in love with each other and the artist fell in love with the art.