it's shortly past 2 in the morning. outside my window I hear a slam-thud, like the door or a car opening and closing. it wakes me out of a pretty sound sleep. looking up, and out, I notice a reddish van parked on the street. two tall slender men are lingering around it, one unloading canvaas after canvas (the smallest probably about 4' X 3' the largest about 8' X 8') onto the street, leaning their painted edges up against the van. the paintings are of people, based on original small sketches, one says to the other. there appears to be some sort of selection process going on. they're all unloaded onto the street in their entirely, one by one, forming a wavy line around the perimeter of the van, which each man strolls, individually, stopping to analyze each piece in detail. much debate ensues. A large, 8' X 8' canvas wins, a stark image of the backs of two children (or what I can assume are children from my lofty perch about 30 feet away), minimalist colour scheme, backs facing the artist, sitting on a log overlooking a lake, perhaps? A statement about childhood innocence? Gradually, the canvases are all loaded back into the van, including the final selection. Both men close up the van, forgetting to turn off the interior lights, and walk away, presumably to one of the houses nearby, to the left of me, past my window, off into the night.
I really do live on an odd street, don't I?