Upon this bench an easel had been placed and there seemed to be a large square canvas resting on it. But the canvas was covered by a black cloth whose...opacity was such that no glimpse of what lay beneath was possible. Resting on the bench were a variety of brushes along with other painter’s tools; sticks of drawing charcoal, knives and several obviously modern tubes of oil paint which carried a French brand name. She picked one up.“Hmmm, so this is not the afterlife.”Beyond the bench, she now. When dinner was over, I walked her to her car. She asked if I was in a hurry to leave - I said no. She suggested a drive, and I accepted. We drove aimlessly, passing through some neighborhoods of homes - past a park - and eventually stopping along a river. We sat, with some nice music playing. As we talked, it became apparent there was some serious chemistry going on. Before we knew it, we embraced. Nothing major went on that night, or other nights to follow, but it was special.I actually. More

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