Voltage

6 years ago with 15 comments
I’m eleven, standing in front of a broad painting of a broad woman lying down with no clothes on. My father wants me to look closer — forget what the painting is about, don’t be embarrassed, but see the brushstrokes, look how many colors in the flesh! — but I don’t want to look closer. He puts his hand on my shoulder, nudges me towards the canvas. I’m not ...