The Ballerina by Ryan Licata
All afternoon I lay on the couch, staring at the picture on her wall: a ballerina sitting, lacing her shoe: a raised leg, a bended knee. Then, her key turned in the lock. I pretended to be asleep, but she’d seen my dangling feet in socks. She put down her purse. In a while I followed her into the bedroom. The curtains were drawn and the room was dark, and cool. She removed her stockings, and everything else; her dress lay on the floor. Her pale body seemed the source of that coolness. “I’m tired,” she said, “let me sleep.”
Latte di Susanna Raule
Per cinque giorni l’aveva ignorato. Lo guardava passare, seduta sui gradini di casa sua. Poi, il sesto giorno, forse perché era sabato, si era decisa ad allungare una mano. L’aveva grattato dietro le orecchie e allora il gatto si era trasformato in un uomo alto.
“Ce ne hai messo di tempo,” aveva detto, con una voce dolce, mielata.
Era rientrata e gli aveva portato del latte. In una tazza, non in un piattino. “Grazie. Ora mi siederei davanti al camino.”
Così l’aveva fatto entrare. Era da allora che il gatto stava davanti al camino, mentre dell’uomo è meglio non chiedere.
Notes
It took me a really long time to find a proper image for The Ballerina. It’s a complex story in some ways… complex for me at least. The illustration for Latte, is another scan from my sketchbook, which I “enhanced” a bit in photoshop… sometimes these drawings are the best ones to somehow brake with my normal way of doing things. For the idea of this last illustration I have to thank Sbrizz for the input, somehow I was producing only bullshit today… and, like so often, I was a bit behind scedule with these drawings.