For years I have stared at a painting, Inherited from our daughter, hanging On the wall across from my chair.
The painting, from the 1950s, is Of a young woman, attractive, But not particularly attractive to me. It is an airy, misty frontal picture, A smudged crown of large pink flowers, Maybe peonies or roses, carrot hair, a Soft Viking look on her fine-featured face, Blue eyes, downturned with a Narrowed and sidelong look. Long ago I was told, “Never trust anyone with skinny eyes.” The presentation is ethereal. I search for meaning. Maybe she is a ceremonial submissive offering, or Some threshold-of-adulthood event in Finland, or A virgin to be sacrificed? Maybe she is seeking admission to a convent.
More likely, the skinny, diverted eyes Show disinterest or boredom with the whole act, or The part she is to play.