Artist: Leonid Afremov

Anna is an artist.

As we walk along the trail, I can’t help but wonder – my mind filled with several thoughts all competing for attention.  Anna purposefully ignores me for several minutes as she walks in front of me in comfortable silence.  Well, not exactly a walk – more a dance.  With graceful movements of her arms accentuated by her delicate fingers, she seems to conduct the breeze.  She silently laughs as the leaves rustle in seeming rhythm of her movements.

I watch in wonder as Anna lowers her arms with a sudden break in the breeze – the leaves settle back in place – waiting.  She whirls around to face me – gives me a mischievous smile. As usual, she starts our conversation as if answering an unasked question.  “Yes, Dylan says he feels me in the breeze when he walks”, she says.  “He says he naturally extends his fingers expecting my hand – I love that thought”, she beams. I smile at the memory of my walks with Dylan – the way he scoops the breeze with his fingers – a movement I now have as well.

I agree with Dylan – Anna has a certain way of smiling that takes your breath away.  But for me, it’s her eyes that capture you – luminous light green – almost cat-like.  She has long flowing auburn-colored hair – it flies free in the breeze – loose. On our walk today, she wears a simple white top with a turquoise skirt and sandals. She absently plays with the hem of her skirt, waiting for me to say something.  Then just like the breeze, she rustles her skirt and laughs, ‘It’s your canvas Michael – what do you want me to paint?’

Anna is going to be fun…

Michael

Artist: Leonid Afremov

Dylan is a writer.

As we walk along the trail together, He seems to be weighing out what to tell me. I feel there’s a certain sadness about him today. His shape slowly forms out the shadows in my mind. Dylan wanders casually along the trail as if he was alone – always a step or two ahead. Yet, there is an easy familiar connection between us. He’ll suddenly turn to face me at odd moments as we walk – seemingly searching for something in my face.

He has longish unkempt light brown hair – it almost distracts me from his face. But he has penetrating eyes that demand attention – hazel, I think. He smiles easily as we begin to talk. There’s a certain aliveness about him when we walk this trail. He plays with the breeze; his fingers extend to scoop up as much as possible. It always makes me laugh when he does that – but, now I find myself doing it as well.

Dylan dresses casually – jeans, sneakers, and a white t-shirt. He has on a button-down blue and white striped shirt today – not tucked in. He clearly has something he wants to tell me – but, I know his style a bit …

and wait…

Michael