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"I was asking you, Clara Who hurt you once?" Ruth gestured to the easel "What’re you waiting for?"

"Waiting?" asked Clara "Nothing"

"Then why’re you stuck? Like the characters in that godda to save you? Waiting for Peter to tell you it’s okay to get on without hi place"

"I just want to paint," said Clara "I don’t want to be saved, I don’t want to be forgiven I don’t even want led out of the sofa "I did"

"You did what?" asked Clara

"The answer to that question All those years when I couldn’t write, I bla"

Clara watched Ruth and Rosa waddle away She had no idea what the crazy old wo in front of the canvas, it slowly sank in

Who could do such dae? Who knehere the weaknesses, the fault lines lay? Who could cause all that internal bleeding?

Clara turned back to the portrait of Peter

"I’ive ainst a wall, and put up a fresh canvas

She knehy she was blocked She was trying to do the wrong painting Trying tointo penance

Clara picked up her brush and contemplated the empty canvas She would do a portrait of the person who had hurt her once, beyond repair

With one bold stroke after another she painted Capturing the rage, the sorrow, the doubt, the fear, the guilt, the joy, the love, and finally, the forgiveness

It would be heryet

It would be a self-portrait