I see Nothing

“What do you see?”I inquired of my companion. “Nothing”‘, he replies, puzzled as he watched me compile my theory. I notice his bewilderment. “Really, you don’t see anything?” I inquire once more. “Not a thing? What am I suppose to see? It’s just a bunch of twigs.”
“To you it is meaningless debris, to the artist it is raw material. The substance to a create another work of art.” I eloquently explained. The silence grew thick as this man realized he was competing for a brilliantly, artist mind. Her essence he would never grasp, though her physical beauty captivated him, the battle was over. He could not win. He surrendered without a fight, he could not contain her gift. Her talent in him was misunderstood, it would take another artist to compliment her rich diversity.

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