When asked to pose in his May Day finery, Philippe happily complied. It had become his spring ritual to welcome the flowers, much to the delight of Cornelius and Téodor. The occasion was tinged, though, -- only to him -- with a pestering memory whose once all-consuming strength had dimmed in time but held over the last many years at a quiet, still-palpable plateau of longing, of the irresponsible indulgence in a daydream that she could be real again. Which she couldn't, not for all the schemes in the world.
Oil pastels on 6" hardboard panel. If you purchase this piece, please try to remember that it is a very sad picture.