Lines, marks on a page across the century I became his lover again. There wharves, buildings, lap of water in black and white. Here, my warmed heart.

February 15th, 2014, 4pm

It was 19°C with broken clouds. There was moderate breeze.

We’d walked wharves together, played upon rooftops, facades, within intimate windows. Sailed along the coast. All that he was, he laid out before me. All that I wished to be, I listened, enamored. Lazy afternoons, intensely tracing lines, he entered my heart. And then we parted. And here, I stand once again, among the charcoal lines and shapes and shadows, feeling the warmth grow around my heart, for your care, your exquisite tending. The course wood, the gentle lapping, the slight chill that blows in among the piers, all there, but you keep me warm. You hold this place eternally for me to be embraced by you. And reminded. Our lovers, ourselves. Speak to us as no other can. Even when they’re gone.


Adrian, Christine and David Wade said thanks.

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Janice Cartier

I paint. I draw. And I once asked to have an interesting life...I probably should have clarified that a bit more.

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