They walk together--Prouvaire speaks of poetry, Justitia of art. By the bridge an old woman sells apples from a battered basket, and Prouvaire buys two. Justitia has a pocketknife; he peels like a boy, in towards his thumb, and secretly Prouvaire is afraid he will cut himself. He doesn't, though, and they share the apples talking quietly but eagerly. Prouvaire (secretly) wants to write a poem about the juice on Justitia's fingers, and Justitia (though he does not say so) would like to paint Prouvaire with a white-gold slice of fruit in his hand.
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Date: 2005-08-29 02:44 am (UTC)^____^
They walk together--Prouvaire speaks of poetry, Justitia of art. By the bridge an old woman sells apples from a battered basket, and Prouvaire buys two. Justitia has a pocketknife; he peels like a boy, in towards his thumb, and secretly Prouvaire is afraid he will cut himself. He doesn't, though, and they share the apples talking quietly but eagerly. Prouvaire (secretly) wants to write a poem about the juice on Justitia's fingers, and Justitia (though he does not say so) would like to paint Prouvaire with a white-gold slice of fruit in his hand.