Nerthus
Nodding and turning back to the painting, I think about how I could walk away politely after this embarrassment as I sense him shift. He leans in, lowering his voice as if he wanted to tell me a secret. “And I’m not quite into this kind of stuff.”
I turn my attention back to him, lowering my voice as well.
“Why not?”
He just shrugs and I snicker.
“Well, I always thought that it was awesome.” He looks at me with his brow raised and I add. “Art. I mean.” Clearing my voice, I continue to ramble along. “You see, every piece, like a painting, a song or even a poem holds the creativity of its creator. It captures its mood, its state of mind, its emotion. They practically gift us a piece of themselves that will forever be…” I look at him as he stares at me unimpressed and flash him a
