I lived in a doorway
Between two ateliers.
I saw my rough sketches of portraits,
Those friends and the master gave me,
Mounting up in the old-fashioned atelier.
But I walked into the other
Newly-built atelier,
Ignoring those rough sketches.
Only an easel, papers, and paint brushes
Filled the atelier.
I have been drawing my own portrait for years,
And I will fill this room with
My own dream.
my msn pic
