War turnt Death intae wur mistress and us tae blind weans.
This wealth we’d been fighting fir was cried “common” by name, sic a name wi
which we’d tramp life tae the ground. The life o’ anither. Aye. Or so Ah gied
masel tae ken. Sure, Ah managed tae haud masel thegither. Tae whit cost? Ma
soul being aw cowpedup fae me. Ah kent ma
commandments: Leuk, but dinny see. See, but
dinny feel. Feel, but n’er let oan.
Drawing portraits of royalty makes an artist feel
like an angel. One that’s having tea with God. Etiquette is of utmost
importance: carefully weigh your smiles, your words, your brush strokes. Missy
was only a princess at the time. Beautifully young and unawarely Serene she
bowed the first time we met – a short, acknowledging kind of bow. “You are the
artist,” she said. “Then make me your art,” a playful smile stretching across
her face. It was the smile of a princess, but she had the eyes of a Queen. One
I could have drawn till the end of time.