She loved that oversized shirt which was always covered in paint. Well, it wasn’t oversized. She was a little girl, and it was her mother’s old shirt. Everyone in art school had some kind of weird clothing, and no one was bothered by it. It seemed everyone was satisfied with each drop of gouache on their parents’ old clothes. Probably, kids would have been more careful if their ‘good’ clothes were not covered and saved from the possible damage. Maybe it was a part of the teaching process. Maybe kids were taught not to be afraid of disasters that might happen during the creative process. One drop of red painting on jeans might trigger the hurricane called ‘mother.’ Besides, it was always cold in the art school. The thick walls of the art school did not let even the brightest ray of sunshine to enter the building and make it more pleasant for young creative souls. Though, another layer of clothing helped not to freeze as well.
She always had a desire to wonder. To find places and spend hours in nature playing chess and other board games, badminton or learning to swim in the pretty cold water. She enjoyed that silence of nature, the music played by grasshoppers and the sound of wind playing in the tree tops. Margareth. Let’s call her Margareth to make this story smoother. Names always allow getting a better image of the character. Her light curly hair was always messy after a day spent near the lake or after hours of wandering in the forest. In the evening she was tired, but her blue eyes were sparkling. Before falling asleep, she was dreaming about new adventures after a week or two. She enjoyed these day trips a lot. Margareth always waited for a call from her dad who promised to take her somewhere nice. She always waited for him. Sometimes he didn’t show up. Her mother used these situations to her advantage and always said something negative about him. Margareth’s parents got divorced when she was a little. She was supposed nothing to hear, see or understood, but she remembers how he said before closing the door “I will come back.” It never happened.