She stared at the blank canvas before her. Brush clutched tightly in her fist. The longer she gazed, the more unfocused her eyes became. A swirl of color slowly danced across her vision. Then another.
Soon, a kaleidoscope of images twirled across the canvas. A vision not of shapes and structure but of light and shadow, tints and shades. She closed her eyes and the movement stopped. A snap shot of the violent ballet frozen in her mind’s eye.
She held on to the vision breathing it in, feeling the image resonate inside her. A smile curved her lips as she exhaled. The brush moved of it’s own accord following the unseen steps of the choreography so vividly displayed but a moment ago. Strong strokes- broad and bold. Delicate lines and graceful bands. Each added for just the right balance.
She moved without method. A furious blur of motions until at long last the brush clattered to the floor. Her hand shaking by her side. Breaths heaving in her lungs. Heart pounding in her chest.
A triumphant smile burned across her face as she beheld her creation.