“This one,” I said.
“Tell me something about it,” the man said and prepared a small notebook with the pen between pages.
As I was thinking, I took a deep breath, and realized there wasn't too much to say.
“I was working in this town when the only thing that helped me to escape from the pestering reality was a couple of stray cats,” I squeezed out of me.
When I saw that painting, I wondered if those cats were looking for me, if they were sad when I disappeared. In fact, they disappeared first, but the possibility that they might come back made me sad. They weren't able to understand. They could be sad and confused. I imagined how they would feel if they came back. In fact, I could hear that sad meowing in my mind. The melody of asking for food -the symphony of needing someone who cared.
