I’ve always had it in me, she’d told Paz, it’s just that no one thought to look. I married an artist, ran off to Brazil with an artist, always somebody else’s Muse. Was I drawn to artists because they mirrored something inside of me, something I couldn’t dare to claim as my own? Well, to hell with all that, I don’t want to be the Muse, not for a man and not for a woman, I want to be the artist and to find a thousand Muses hidden in the wrinkles of the world.
