I had been pondering long enough now. It was time to put brush to paper and try to paint a stone so that it looked convincingly like a stone. I chose the perfect one from a small pile of rocks on the beach, near the dock, and held it in my hand.
He did not like being picked up. Having woken from a deep sleep, he still remained completely motionless. He felt stiff everywhere. Lying awkwardly on his side for so long in the sand had left him feeling cold and numb. As he sat up in my hand, the morning light began to warm the upper part of his form. His pink and grey granite exterior relaxed against my hand. My skin felt smooth against his rough weathered surface.
He looked round. He rolled onto his back and then over into my other hand. There was not really that much to see. He didn’t feel different either. He reflected quietly.
Sparkles of gneiss and flecks of mica glistened above the dark patch where the dampness from the wet sand he’d been lying in (for who knows how long) had started to disappear. No wonder he felt stiff.
He needed to stretch. Feeling heavier now too, he needed to be put down. Plonk.
He sat there on the dock waiting as I got out my paint brush, dipped it into my jar of water and excitedly began mixing colours. Nothing seemed to move him. In fact he remained perfectly still the whole time I tried to paint him - the ideal artist’s model.
In the end I think he got bored and went back to sleep.
When I was finished painting I was a bit disappointed he showed no interest to see what I'd done. He probably wouldn’t have liked it anyway. I decided to leave him there warming in the sun.
In the end I think I did manage to get a bit of his likeness on paper.
But still, I would have liked to have captured a bit more life in the painting.
