You’re welcome. I thought you probably knew the poem, a number of elements seem to fit the painting and you.

D. thank you for describing the painting. D I am really sorry but don’t know if you are David, Dion or Doug… would you tell me?

June I don’t know latin too. But when I read this poem I though it would be suitable to go with the painting to the spectator view.
Look how latin words sounds,flowery words, look at the ambiguity and no understanding that provokes, just like I am trying with the painting. I think the effect works well.

Hi Sunil!Thank you! This painting is truly me, the thing I enjoy most doing and my real soul signature.

The painting is an arresting one. This one contains less psychological tension than some of your earlier ones, maybe because the face overpowers the usual psychological harbingers that tend to be a signature of your earlier works. Whatever, it is a nice piece.

Keep going. You have a great individual style.

Sorry about the misspelling of my own name.

Angela, what I crave is a full exhibition of your work — all your women together in one collected place, talking to each other and to me.

I really like this painting: her parted lips, her crazy-long neck, the fun curly-cue hair, the unexpected sky through the window, the strange unshelter space, the teeny-tiny trees leading to a hillside and distant castle, the boundary of the fence, the tension of the ligaments in her palm, her irregular, extended fingers, and of course, her pinky.

A Europa jaz, posta nos cotovelos:
De Oriente a Ocidente jaz, fitando,
E toldam-se romanticos cabelos
Olhos gregos, lembrando.

O cotovelo esquerdo é recuado;
O direito é em angulo disposto.
Aquele diz Italia onde é pousado;
Este diz Inglaterra onde, afastado,
A mão sustenta, em que se apoia o rosto.

Fita, com olhar sphyngico e fatal,
O Ocidente, futuro do passado.

O rosto com que fita é Portugal.

THE CASTLES

Europe is lying propped upon her elbows:
From East to West she lies, starting
Out, reminiscent, – Greek eyes from the shelter
Of romantic hair.

Behind her back the left elbow is cast;
The right has the angle place.
That once says Italy in its repose;
This one says England where, gathered apart,
It holds the hand up to support the face.

She stares, her gaze doom-heavy, sphingical,
Out at the West, the future of the past.

The face with which she stares is Portugal.

-Fernando Pessoa