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  • Often with art, it is not so much what the eye can see, but what lies underneath. The artist’s essence pushes through or doesn’t and this is what separates art from a mere trace. I am no art critic, but this is what I think as I find myself in artistic circles over and over again, which is okay with me as I never quite fit in a sports bar, not me.

    This is how I came to know my hairdresser who eventually would become my life’s biggest love. Hairdressers usually have artistic skill and my love certainly did. His art always jumped out, grabbed me and made me laugh and this happened long before I fell in love with him. His essence was always so close to the surface of all that he created that it virtually reached at you, hugged you and made you smile.

    This effect of his art is ironic, because he had spent his entire adult life fighting terminal brain cancer. Death breathed on the back of his neck everyday and yet its shadow was rarely cast on his creations.

    How did he do it? I often asked myself as he cut my hair year after year and as his cancer took more and more.
    I got the answer on the Valentine’s Day before I started dating him.

    On this day, I walked into the salon and all around his chair were these gigantic pastel drawings of hearts. Anyone can draw a heart even me; however, I had never seen hearts like these. They squiggled; they giggled; they burst.

    “You like them?” He asked as he glided across the floor.

    “LOVE!” I exclaimed, which caught me off guard.

    Love was his essence, his key to existence.
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