There was an invitation to the studio, permission to choose whatever colors drew him and to slap them on acrylic with the beautiful unselfconsciousness of an almost-four-year old.
I could learn something from you, Chris said to Ezra.
I witness it every day, unselfconsciousness being one of the primary gifts of early childhood, but damn if I can imagine how to embody it.
For Ezra there was the thrill of spray paint and color and tools. He was reserved but alert, as he tends to be.
For me there was the pleasure of pulling back the curtain on something unusual and special,
of receiving kindness from a new friend,
of watching a kind of visual jazz unfold in front of me.