by Unknown
We all want glory and be that a canvas in Venice, a new born baby or just a 5k run around a park its our own glory that counts. If anything the internet has let us all be our own demi-gods, being the best at what we can do or the worst. We still make an impact. We are all still remembered be it by one or a million. No one though has to ever suffer in solitude again, the internet has saved many more than it has killed.
Lucas had always been solitary, aloof in a world he claimed he hated but never really understood. He was beginning to grasp it. Why be so acerbic? We are the only animal that faces each other when we eat and that’s for a reason. We all need companionship and Lucas was using his art to touch the lives of not necessarily billions, one would be enough.
As the cigarette burnt, someone came up and took a photo of the wall though it wasn’t finished. So what, it could be in Australia within three clicks.
Wasn’t that the deep rooted soul of an artist? To touch those that understood or even those who just wanted to be in the presence of something truly great.
The world had changed, it does everyday. Lucas now knew that, he had come close enough to losing it all twice. It wasn’t about the inner battle it was about the outer expression. Self loathing had to end to be beautiful, if he didn’t think he was then how could his work ever show as such?
The painting in front of him now was magnificent, the first time even he had said so about his own work. 48 hours straight with 34 beers, 81 cigarettes and a hell of a tan and it was nearly there. People stopped for minutes at a time photographing, shouting up at him and applauding. Mo sat there serenely during the mornings and evenings just watching.
Mo’s gift was to create balance. Mo imagined Lucas felt as he did when he was surfing a wave. Painting and art was for Lucas and only the darkly selfish would not share this with the world or allow it to be shared, otherwise what was the point?
The cigarette butt blew off into the west wind and Lucas climbed the ladder again. Now for the hard part, his muse.
Mo had said she would know? How? If she did show her face he would accept his failings to her. He would beg for forgiveness.
To accept her as his he accepted dependence. Both of them had always walked alone and look how that had ended. It was time to take it on together.
*
April never went to see Len at the strip club. Fuck that and fuck LA.
She had walked through the night and tried to imagine what she would say to Lucas, let alone what she would think if she saw him. It was a city though, it wouldn’t be easy to find one individual.
He had come here to find her. Could she forgive herself? Or him for that matter? His selfishness knew no bounds.
Up ahead a crowd was gathered on the Venice boardwalk. She hadn’t been here yet and thought she would explore. It was busy, it was the kind of place where he would be.
And he was.
She saw the wall from a quarter of a mile away and stopped still.
There they were, her and him emblazoned on the walls of Venice.
The image was red at the back with startling greens erupting from the two figures entwined in front of a setting sun, a dying one.
They were facing outwards. Him and Her. An expression of utter calm on their faces. The hatred was gone as was the frantic style of before, and the better for it.
The sea behind the couple on the wall crashed in a way only an LA one could with the light orange bathing everything in serenity and peace.
She looked harder into her own face. How could he still see that in her? There was only one answer to that and it was drawn right in front of her.
Then she saw him.
He was speaking aloud to those below and allowing them to come up the ladder and add their own versions of what they thought love was. This was his impression, that was theirs. It was shared.
Lucas helped someone up the ladder and happened to look down the boardwalk.
He saw her.
She began to run, he jumped off the ladder.
The boardwalk parted for the two of them. Crowds began to recognise the April from the painting and began to cheer, LA stopped for those moments, and a city paused.
Closer they came to each other, the setting sun urging them on to recreate the painting. Mo was there watching over them with a fist held aloft and a smile on his face.
Then they met throwing themselves into each other.
They kissed deeply and the boardwalk erupted around them.
Neither one of them knew it would take them almost to death for both of them to realise. Three cities, all of which they had left bloodied and bruised. Two people and it was right there in front of them all the time, they just needed to learn to love themselves first.
It wasn’t only in front of April and Lucas, now the whole world would see that canvas on the wall of Venice beach where it will always remain. The world could hear their story.
THE END
