The Winding

I see a relatively short individual—about 5 foot 6 or 7—in the center of the room. His face has a full beard, all white, that comes to a point about an inch below his chin. His hair, also all white, is neatly parted on the left. Wearing a white linen shirt, cream linen trousers, and Birkenstock slippers, he’s dressed casually. He’s holding a palette in his left hand and a brush in his right, contemplating a canvas depicting a woman emerging from the fire. Mr. Nardin used Pollock’s splatter painting method to represent the fire. The woman’s skin is blue, her eyes a mixture of green and blue, and her hair is orange and yellow like the fire but flows like waves. Upon closer inspection, I see that the woman’s face resembles the one outside, called Amara.

Mr. Nardin turns his head slightly and stares at me with his glinting eyes, hazel eyes that can pierce through one’s soul. They deceive the smile on his face. “Ah! You found me at last, Dr. Abajian.” He winks. “I hope the directions worked.” I can’t place his accent, and his deep voice vibrates through the floor and the furniture. Why did he wink?

“Thanks for having me. You live on an enchanting property.”

He shrugs and points at his painting. “What do you think”?