Dissipation
Aspen
So, I was walking around outside today, looking at the scenery, and, just incidentally, to see if escape was possible. It might be, but it’d take some work. We’ve got this stupid ankle bracelet that lets off an alarm when we get out of bounds like we’re on house arrest, and all the fences are electric and barbed wire.
So, when it got too hot, I wandered onto the back patio, which is also the activity room, but backed off again quick. There were a bunch of little kids doing art in there, and paint was flinging like crazy in blobs across the room.
Then I noticed there was one little girl in the corner, not flinging paint. She was finger painting on the table, using her finger like an artist would use his brush. Curiously, I walked over and looked over her shoulder.
It was an incredibly realistic painting of the scene outside, trees, lake, and all. Her finger darted in and out of three blobs of paint –red, yellow, and blue-and mixed colors expertly, brushing them against the table. It was amazing.
She turned around and stared at me. I had this feeling like I was being X-rayed, closely examined. It was uncomfortable, but I couldn’t look away.
Then, the art specialist lady started walking towards our table. The little girl gasped and started splatting paint over the picture. By the time she got here, the table was a muddy mess of color like all of the others.
So, when it got too hot, I wandered onto the back patio, which is also the activity room, but backed off again quick. There were a bunch of little kids doing art in there, and paint was flinging like crazy in blobs across the room.
Then I noticed there was one little girl in the corner, not flinging paint. She was finger painting on the table, using her finger like an artist would use his brush. Curiously, I walked over and looked over her shoulder.
It was an incredibly realistic painting of the scene outside, trees, lake, and all. Her finger darted in and out of three blobs of paint –red, yellow, and blue-and mixed colors expertly, brushing them against the table. It was amazing.
She turned around and stared at me. I had this feeling like I was being X-rayed, closely examined. It was uncomfortable, but I couldn’t look away.
Then, the art specialist lady started walking towards our table. The little girl gasped and started splatting paint over the picture. By the time she got here, the table was a muddy mess of color like all of the others.