#Chapter 35: Flow

Iris Each brush stroke across the canvas takes me deeper and deeper into a state of flow. My hand moves of its own accord, in time with the soft classical music playing on the small record player in the corner. Blues and yellows, pinks and greens. It’s a simple still life of some potted tulips sitting on the windowsill in front of me, the type of painting that I know will sell quickly. The heavier subjects can wait for now. This one just needs to earn me some cash to put toward a lawyer. But even so, the process of making this simple painting relaxes me. Over the past few weeks, my work has suffered greatly, as evidenced by the disaster of a painting that I showed to Alice at the gallery. Here, though, I feel… better. Here, I forget once again that I ever left this little studio, that the past five years ever passed at all. I feel… safe. The sun begins to go down, casting vibrant golds and reds across the small room. Fat little birds chirp on the led