My dream is unlike your lover’s Yadwigha who lay naked
on a sofa in midst of the jungle, staring at a couple of tame
lions listening to the sound of the flute of a snake charmer.
In this, your last painting, she offers the tapestry of her skin
to the lush foliage as the feline’s golden eyes reflect the light
in your gaze and hers. Her posture, unlike Goya’s Naked Maja’s
nonchalant recline, is tense and well aware of the voyeuristic
glances hiding beneath every heavy branch. She points at a
mysterious onlooker that even you can’t capture on the canvas.
As for me, let me tell you about the pressure in my chest as I
doze off half-conscious of an imminent danger lurking outside
the house. With eyes closed, I see wild beasts, lions shaking
majestic manes, and tigers advancing stealthily around the house.
I know I’m trapped inside, the darkness enabling me to peek at
the way these creatures prey in slow motion behind overgrown
ferns and spiderworts sword-like leaves rising taller by the minute.
But I’m the only one aware of such aberrant presence since I’m
home alone and won’t dare to move or open any door.