My ritual preparations; mind, body, spirit - set.
Brush in hand, I stroke the sable. It feels soft: tactile, pliable. Flexing like reeds in a gale, bending like crops in a field. I smirk. Walls stripped bare. Naked. Willing. My blank canvas.
I caress, like a lover. My ministrations filled with care. Dip into gloss. Watch it drip. Dip again. Up to the handle. Slow stroke, even stroke. A little harder, a little gentler. Smooth and even. Cover the cracks. Start afresh. Sepia begets white.
I smile and nod. Smug. Self-satisfied.
A fresh coat of paint.