art.

She didn't understand any of it― art that is.

And that's what he was, art.

A walking, thinking, breathing, talking piece of art.

& he allowed her into his world, and inadvertently ignited her right mind.

& she loved his art, everything about it.

This unread woman who had been trying to teach herself to open her mind and eyes to aesthetics unfamiliar to her, grew fond of everything he created; everything he loved.

Mostly because she found pieces of him in them and they were keys to his soul.

That's how she fell in love with art; with the world; with him.

He had the ability to touch, open and awaken her senses in a way no one else was able to.

Senses she didn't know she had.

Challenging everything she thought.

Nullifying every fact she was taught.

Becoming all things to her.

He taught her science through feeling.

That was his art; his ability to mold her.

She was clay in his hands, and he sculpted her...

& she became art.

*Photo: "Many of Auguste Rodin's works explore intimate moments. This simple sculpture of two right hands, with fingertips nearly touching, creates a charged space between the hands."