I suppose like with anything, you could argue it all down to the very basics. It’s only paint, after all. Tiny flecks of white in the canvased eyes of this woman. Or, you could put aside all the whys and hows, the whats, and what ifs, and just feel it.

Empathy.

We don’t have to fix everything. (Not even if we could.) People, I think, just want to be seen. Accepted, with all of their flecks and flaws. Noticed, when that white fleck turns from sparkle to melancholy. And loved just the same.

Is it too much to expect? Maybe. But it’s not too much to ask.

So I pose the question again and again with each stroke. Each portrait. Each painting. Hoping that all of us can see each other just a little bit more clearly, and possibly even ourselves. Reflecting the beauty from fleck to fleck.