He was painting...
In the beginning was the Word,and the Word was with God,and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. John 1:1-3
Say thou: “Were the sea ink for the words of my Lord, the sea would be exhausted before the words of my Lord were exhausted, though We brought the like thereof as replenishment. The Cave 109
This book was written with God’s permission…
Signed: Habil Yashar
He was painting.
Not the woman of his dreams, but the woman of his life.
But—
to keep the woman of his life alive in his dreams, he painted.
He painted day and night without knowing rest.
He withdrew from everyone, taking refuge only in his small workspace, and painted.
From the inexhaustible energy of his love, neither sleeplessness, nor hunger, nor nervous exhaustion could stop him.
It was as if the paints were merely a tool; he was painting with the blood of his heart.
In his trembling hands, the brush came alive as though it were dancing.
Eyebrows, eyes, lips, ears, nose, chin, the small beauty mark on her left cheek—even down to individual strands of hair—everything had to be perfect and, at the very least, worthy of her.
Who knows—perhaps history had not seen a second such masterpiece since the Mona Lisa, and perhaps it never would.
