Ermilia’s Picture it & Write.


I sketched her face with the utmost care, inspired by her modest beauty. The mere sight of her had precipitated stirrings within me I could not explain. Her black curly her, her blue eyes, red lips, face pinked up with a dash of blush… She smiled charmingly at me as though she had had a revelation about my thoughts and was in agreement with said notion. I could barely concentrate as smiles were exchanged every now and then. I decided to add a feather to her headgear to give it a graceful look. I’m usually not content with my sketches, but this time I thought highly of what I’d accomplished. With a beaming face, I turned the paper for her perusal. At a glance she shrieked in disgust, walked over to me with her right hand in midair. I barely had the time to extend mine for a misconceived handshake, when I felt the slap on my left cheek. She muttered something in French, which I suppose were obscenities, and walked away pouting. What had I done to deserve this? I took a closer look at the portrait and, in dismay, realized it was an optical illusion. It looked like a young woman from one perspective and an old wrinkled dame from another. Truthfully, I did deserve the slap, I thought to myself.