Gemotions

The silence of the house, usually a comfort, had lately felt oppressive. Now, though, the quiet seemed to thrum with possibilities. Maria had sunk into a creative rut, the ideas escaping her as quickly as she could grasp them. She smiled as she looked at the picture – her "Phoenix Rising" emblazoned on someone's upper arm. A surge of exhilaration coursed through her.

She grabbed her favorite palette, the colors almost singing to her. She began to layer the colors, mixing them with a newfound abandon. The strokes were bold, powerful. She felt the energy flowing, connecting her to the canvas, to the world, to something bigger than herself. It was as if she'd been asleep and had finally awakened.