Elsa Painting

"You will never be 26 again," he said, "nor live as you do now." "I will never have a May 25th morning again," she replied. "But at least you will have this moment," he said. "I had to get lost to find myself... and find you lost," he said. He didn't know why people liked taking pictures of the stars. Maybe it was the only way to possess them, even if just a little. I met Elsa when yellow flowers fell from the tree and turned into stars. It was as if the flowers committed suicide in summer and became stars. Her words caressed me like flower petals, but they were also my prison. Elsa was looking for a cup in the cupboard and wore a black dress barefoot. Elsa spoke French and offered me a glass of wine. Elsa liked to draw, so I painted her portrait. Elsa only stayed for a while and then left. Elsa told me many stories, and then she was gone. I only painted her. Elsa liked to look out the window. I saw her past, present, and future. I never saw Elsa again, but her memory is all I have of her.