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| James
carves out a crucial piece of clay, leaving Renée’s
clay legs parted. Now a thin strip of light passes through this
line of negative space. His moist hands immerse in her round clay
shoulders, her fragile long spine, her parted thighs. James looks
at Renée and sees that her hand is moving gently between
her legs and her lips are now slightly parted. Renée is
Arnel right now in front of him, all filled with lust, exuding,
exuding, exuding... he must be the most privileged man on earth
to have snuck into her room and to witness such celestial behavior.
He continues to sculpt. The movement of his hands is entirely beyond
him. He is a machine of instinct. He doesn’t know what most
people are doing in New York right now, or even if they are awake
or asleep. He cannot think. He doesn’t even know if Renée-Arnel
is in the room. In fact, James is not in the room. No consciousness
or time are present, only the aromas of the substance of life. Renée leaves that celestial evening of creation and never returns. James waits for her for over two hours the following morning. When he walks downstairs to find out why she was so late for their morning session, Papa Germano of the pensionne advises him to leave town. He tells James that Renée’s husband discovered that instead of shopping for groceries and tending to the baby in the mornings, Renée was naked with an American. *** James learned in business school that when doing business in foreign countries, it is important to listen to a local adviser. He swallows his sorrow, and tries to activate his reason. He believes that only the cerebral should be listened to. He must remain objective, he keeps thinking. James casts his clay in plaster at a local |
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