Sublime

Visual art? As this thought occurred to me, a most peculiar sensation swept through my body. It felt as though my cells had suddenly become buoyant. For a dizzy moment, I almost believed that I was rising up into the air. A panorama of memories rushed through my brain: the thousands of hours I’d spent drawing as an art-obsessed child and adolescent

Only Arturo Caminada wept. Openly. Manly. For forty years he had served you as driver, handyman, man's man, as lover long ago for Gala, the wife you loved beyond the distance of touch or desire. For forty years he answered your call only to be omitted from the will so cleverly written to confuse and cretinize. A surrealist gesture.