The muse She blushed when she saw her immediately remove the silk off. Yet he had done this job for so many years. Not even remember how many models he had seen reclining on a bed that no other veil over the naked skin.
He asked to get his back: sitting on the chair, with his right hand caressing my neck, turn your head slightly to one side watching the earth and her hair tied back. The back
marble reflected the pale light of the study, almost eager to become color on canvas. And that long neck seemed the source that gave rise to all members of that river harmonious and sensitive read rested in the stasis.
He did not speak. He had the color in his hands, and wondered how to play such a beauty.
the air began to tremble, when the brush touched the canvas again and traced the woman's body with curves almost palpable.
The brush fell. The girl smiled. You feel in touch with her. He asked her to smile again, because his ears had never heard the most melodious voice. Now she was blushing. Again the color
skated on the canvas, forming a nest of dark hair gathered at best, and decided the groove of the spine. All sides finished in real estate.
Luis signed the picture, thanked the work done and gave her the money. She pulled herself together and went. He realized only then that the body of the goddess was contained only a humble mortal.