"'Do not move. Stay just as you are,' he commanded with what I can only call hot urgency...He put a fresh canvas on his easel, snatched up brushes, and flung himself at it so passionately that the easel shook. Dabs of red, blue, white, and black flew through the air and swept me up with them. Up and up. I looked down and he was standing on tiptoe on one foot. He lifted me off the ground, leapt up himself, and glided with me up to the ceiling."

Bella flung open the door, and there it was, a painting of both of them soaring upward on a diagonal, his neck swooping back on his supple body so that they were nose to nose, airborne in the little room.

"He whispered a song and I could see the song in his eyes. We flew out the window as easy as could be, dancing through space hand in hand. I saw at once that he had painted my ecstasy."

She became quiet and reflective. "Life was new after that."

I was captivated by her telling and by the painting itself. "Love made visible," I murmured.