I was perusing an old issue of an Antiques magazine. What you might ask would prompt me to even have a magazine like this much less be looking at it? Well, I've got a stack of them; they were a gift. That means that the person didn't want to throw them away and abdicated the task to me. Heck, I have been tasked with destroying old prayer books and Bibles too. "Let the Buddhist guy do it; he's already going to Hell."
So there I was a soda in one hand and a magazine across my lap. Scanning through the images and reading an occassional article that caught my attention. Did you know that one of the Vanderbilts constructed a huge house on a city block in downtown NYC and it was sold out of the family in the 1940's? One of the later daughter in-laws referred to it as the "Black hole of Calcutta." I'm still curious, what's standing there now and did some wrecker save architectural stuff from the gaudy inside.
Leafing through the magazine my eye was captured by a painting from the 1800's that some gallery was advertising. It was a painting of a geisha girl. The painter was focused on her from behind. She was partially clothed and kneeling on the floor. She was looking in a mirror.
I was captivated.
It was the hints that caught me.
There was only a hint of her body.
There was only a hint of her smooth skin.
There was only a hint of her face in the mirror.
There was only a hint of a facial expression.
There was only a hint of a breast.
There was only a hint of her life.
I was captivated by the hints of her full life. I was captivated by the hints of another world. If I was filthy rich I'd consider buying the painting and I'd hang it in my closet where it would hint to me that there are many secret worlds.
How easily I can fall in love with hints of the world.