Stiwa stood there for a moment,
still holding the scroll of paper with her latest painting before
pushing it back into the tube. Then, she sat down on the grass and
looked at the water for a moment. The thing with her shoes was made
up. She wasn’t that poor even though being an artist wasn’t
always easy. She wasn’t one to needlessly ruin things though so she
still took them off before she waded into the water and over to the
other side.
Juinlift raised her head at the sound of the water splashing, her eyes widening when she saw that that wily painter had made the effort to come over after all. “Oi, Ms. Painter, who would have thought you’d actually do what you said after so much time?” She completely forgot to continue weaving her basket over this, just staring in doubt.
Stiwa arrived on the other side with a bright smile. She shook her head and then one foot after the other, getting rid of the water. “Well, you do owe me a pair of straw sandals now.”
“What a pity, I already used up all the straw in the meantime. I’m afraid you’ll have to come back tomorrow to get them.”
Stiwa stared at her, not sure what to make of this but finally just laughed. “Well, if there’s time, I will do that.”
“Then, can you show me that painting of yours now?” Juinlift smiled, happy that she had won.
Stiwa smiled as well and went over the rest of the way, moving Juinlift’s empty basket out of the way that had originally been holding the straw and willow branches. Then, she sat down where it had stood, right next to Juinlift.
Opening up the tube, she took out the scroll and unfolded it. “It can’t quite live up to the real thing but I tried my hardest so try to go easy on me.”
Juinlift smiled when she was finally shown the painting. She hadn’t been sure what to expect. With how much time the painter had spent over there, it should be a good painting. But then, she had said that it wasn’t as good as the real thing and there might have been some truth to that. So really, the painting could have been anything from absolutely dreadful to completely amazing.
Finally looking at the real thing, she realized that Stiwa had been exaggerating. To her eye, the painting was beautiful, breathtaking even. The woman depicted in the middle was smiling not brightly but with a certain air of mystery about her as if she was in on some joke nobody else was getting. Her hair draped over her shoulders like a soft veil, the flowing lines curling at the end where they met those of the dress.
The whole picture was illuminated by a few rays of light falling in from the side, seeming warm and comfortable as if you could sit down in the house of the beauty and simply talk to her over a cup of tea like two old friends might that hadn’t seen each other in a long time but could pick off right where they left off months ago.
Juinlift looked at the painting for a few moments longer, taking in all the small details both about the woman in the middle and the background. Honestly, she didn’t think that the painter needed any advice from her. She hadn’t expected that from the beginning but seeing the painting itself, it became more than clear. In the end, she simply smiled. “The beauty seems quite beautiful to me. But I would be worried about something else if I was you.”
Stiwa turned the canvas back to her, taking a look at the painting again. “What would you be worried about?” This time, she honestly looked confused. Indeed, she had no idea what Juinlift might be referring to. Even though there were some details she wasn’t completely happy with, she would describe this painting as ‘good enough’ at the very least.
Juinlift pointed to the background of the painting. “Well, where did all these baskets come from?”
Stiwa blinked her eyes and then looked at the small heap of baskets on Juinlift’s other side that was barely as high as the woman herself sitting down. In fact, it was more accurate to say that the uppermost basket reached her shoulder. And even then, that was only the highest point. On the other hand, in the painting, the beauty was sitting on a chair, framed by accurately stacked baskets on three sides.
“Well, clearly, she weaved them with her own hands.” She motioned to where the beauty in question was currently holding a couple stalks of straw, intending to make yet another basket to add to her collection.
“She must’ve been at it for a while if she managed to weave this many. It looks as if she would be able to build a castle with them.”
Stiwa tilted her head in one direction and then the other, finally shaking it. “I think you’re exaggerating. Even if she could build something with them, it would at most be a small house or rather a hut. There aren’t that many baskets yet.”
“Well, weaving a house, that does sound like an interesting idea.”
“I’ve seen them build houses over in the city, they indeed use straw for that.”
“They use straw for that even outside in the villages. Ms. Painter should probably go and look around the countryside some more so she can paint the landscape more truthfully in the future.” Saying this, she scrutinized the painting in Stiwa’s hands again, furrowing her brows. “Actually, what’s that in the background? Why does it look as if she isn’t outside at all?”
Stiwa raised her brows at that, the look of surprise on her face clearly just acted out this time. “Why? Well, because she’s at home obviously! That has to be her house if she wants to store all of her baskets there.”
“Hopefully not the one that she built out of all the baskets. Otherwise, what is a house doing in a house?”
“I wouldn’t be able to tell you. You’d have to ask the beauty.”
Juinlift looked up at Stiwa, keeping quiet for a moment.
“What’s the matter, weaver girl?”
“If I asked the beauty, do you think she would answer?”
Stiwa raised her brows and then her hands as well, looking as if she also couldn’t tell. “Well, when I called out, there was an answer.”
“Did you call out to her, yes?”
“Well, I was secretly chanting in my mind for her to speak to me, and then it felt as if I had heard somebody call for me. I figured it had to be her since I had wished for that and felt that it would be impolite not to respond. But then, it might just have been my imagination that she called me first. I have a very active imagination, you know? So who knows what is real and what is only happening in my head?”
“Oh, I’d be interested in finding out about the latter. There seem to be a lot of things going on in your mind.”
At that, Stiwa smiled brightly. “You would? Oh, that’s just splendid! You see, tomorrow, I will have to stay in the city. Why don’t you come and weave there for a change?”
“Come all the way to the city? And where would I be weaving my baskets there?”
“Well, there is a house.”
“Oh, is that the beauty’s house?”
“Well, it isn’t yet but if she wanted, it could be in the future. That would just require some negotiations I guess.”
Juinlift pursed her lips, not sure if she had understood that right. If she had though … well, her siblings would go to the market tomorrow anyway. She might as well accompany them in the morning and take a look. It couldn’t hurt. “Well, where would I find that house if I wanted to go?”
“Well, you see, it is one that can’t be easily missed. When you go to the market square in the city and take a turn on the left side, there is a rather broad street. In that one, there is a beautiful old wooden house. The entrance has a small roof covered with shingles which rests on two thick wooden columns that have been carved and painted dark. Usually, there will be a painting displayed bright below that roof so you can’t miss the house or mistake it for a similar building.”
Juinlift nodded, feeling that this was a rather unique description. Also, her older sister and her brother had gone to the city rather often. They would certainly know just which house she was talking about if she asked about it. Actually, just asking about the house of the painter should be enough. How many could there be in a small city? “Well, I should be able to find that.”
“Great! But then, I’m afraid I’ll have to leave now.”
Juinlift raised her brows at that. “This fast? Why? Is there a beauty waiting at home?”
Stiwa raised the painting in her hand. “No, but there’s one that wants to be taken to the house and if I’m about to get a visitor, I need to tidy up. Too many baskets standing around.”
Juinlift laughed and waved to the other side of the river. “Well then, better hurry up. Not that I think you’ll have to worry. Baskets are perfect for storing things so they will come in handy when you start to tidy up.”
Stiwa nodded earnestly as if she would take this advice to heart. Then she got to her feet, dusted off her butt, and rushed down to the riverside, looking back at Juinlift before she waded into the water and made her way to the other side.
Having gotten there, she turned back again and smiled brightly. “Don’t forget to bring the straw sandals you promised me, weaver girl!” She rushed to grab her easel and her bag, and then off she was, vanishing behind the trees.
Juinlift could only laugh and shake her head at her. Then, she also started to gather the baskets she had woven today, stacking them as well as she could before she made her way back.
Tomorrow, she would go to the city and have a look at that painter’s house. It was a good opportunity after having her around without saying a word for half a year already. If she didn’t take it, who knew how many months it would take to actually make some progress?
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