Art

Last week, I learned that the men’s shelter was starting a regular art session for residents. I was skeptical. I doubted the men would be interested in art of any kind, but I showed up. A half-dozen residents, gathered around a folding table, were painting paper mache masks … some masks muted or monochromatic … others masks vivid and bright. I pulled up a chair only to watch. Somehow, I cannot quite recall how, I ended up with a brush, paint, and my very own mask. As we painted, we fell into conversation. This old world holds many surprises for me.