She measured the countless hours of dedicated painting on the walls.
He was sweating, but cheerful under a bright sun.
He was weary, but inspired under cloudy skies.
It was her job to shield him and his work from the vagaries of nature.
At times, she held the lights at night because a deadline was looming.
She measures it all today, as she pays the lawyer with his hard-earned money.
An artist has been accused of treason because some idiots smelt rebellion in the paint.
Neither can they mix colours, nor hold a brush.
But they do hold a whip.
Creative Experiments and More 
I think we’re on the same path this week, Reena.
Deftly crafted piece.
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