Days turned into weeks. If I weren't spending time with Sera, then I was painting whatever she'd inspired. I'd slept less in the last month than I had since college. For years, sleep had consumed me. I slept to see Sylvie. And I could admit I missed her visits. They came less frequently with each passing night. But the Sandman had taken hours away from what now dominated my life.
Art.
I'd never produced the amount of work that had come from my brush in the last four weeks. Even more impressive was the fact that the canvases covering my house were brilliant. Never had I felt so strong about my own work. I had never believed more in what I did, and I had Sera to thank for that fresh life. My past work had always been nudes-classic, not crude-I'd never used art as a cover to cascade porn
