The Woman Who Speaks to Angels

At the beach, a woman caught my eye. She was the only person on the beach who was just looking at the sunset. Just staring. Not taking photos, not exercising or talking to a friend, just staring at the sunset. Without moving. Occasionally she’d walk back a few feet, then take in the sunset for a few more minutes, then move a few feet to the left or right, and just stare at the horizon. I thought I’d like to talk to her. We made eye contact at some point, I nodded and smiled at her, and she walked over. She asked if I took any good photos of the beautiful sunset. We talked and she mentioned she was an artist, a painter. She also casually mentioned she talks to angels. She then asked if we (my friend and I) wanted to visit her house/gallery a few minutes away. We agreed that we’d enjoy the sunset a bit longer and then go. It got dark and chilly, and we left the beach. 

We walked several minutes down a few narrow streets, two or three turns, to a small wooden house in a quiet neighborhood. お邪魔します. Inside was filled with small and large paintings of vague, mostly angelic faces and otherworldly characters. Golds, silvers, pastels—colors of heaven. All were uplifting and gave me a warm, hopeful feeling tinged with mystery. She said she sees visions and paints them without really thinking. There were large seashells scattered about the rooms, a guitar in one corner, an upright piano in another. Signs of a life long lived. Precious, meaningful things. My friend played the piano. We talked a lot. She lived in Italy for awhile. She liked hugs and gave us each one, which sounds unremarkable but is kind of rare here—especially for strangers you meet at the beach.  お邪魔しました.

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