Walking down the ancient streets of Florence I once met a painter. He only had one arm, with his long mustaches and his brown beret looked like he had come out of a painting himself! His work was different from all the other artists’: he was not interested in drawing landscapes or portraits he would only paint beautiful castles made of ice, stones, marble or flowers. And in order to make people believe those castles were real he would include furniture of all époques and a full floor plan of course. Observing him from the side he seemed like the type of person that, regardless of his misfortune, would never run out of colours.
“Castles, I sell castles,” He would shout every now and then to the crowd of tourists around him before painting his silent notes and thoughts back on canvas. Isn’t what art is all about? Depicting yourself…
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Invisible Mikey 
Thank you for sharing my post 🙂
It was very evocative. I loved it.
Loved especially this: “Signorina, somebody once said that only reality must prove itself again and again to questioners,” He said without never taking his eyes off his canvas. “It is the fantasy which goes on without contradiction, without having to prove itself (…)”