Book II
                                                                                     "Sabrine and Vincent"
                                                                                        Chapter Excerpt
                                                                                                                       
  
 
                                                                    There are colours which cause each other
                                                                    to shine brilliantly, which form a couple,
                                                                    which complete each other like man and woman.
           
                                                                                                                                Vincent van Gogh  
                                        
 
 
                                                                                          “Fire & Air” 
                                                                                                    I
 
     Vincent and Sabrine, fire and air, ignited each other, becoming an inseparable couple. Theo and I, of less combustible natures, kept our distance. 

     Sabrine soon was accompanying him on his painting expeditions. I asked if she would keep me informed of her adventures through our Petticoat Post Office. Gladly she pinned letters to the petticoat, now fitted over our new mannequin, a female torso made of wire. The letters were passionate outpourings of her infatuation with him.
 
 
                                                                                              *    *    * 
     Vincent and Bernard paint, paint, paint, while I wander, not too far away, arranging and re-arranging poems in my mind.  At dusk, when the fireflies appear, we return by foot to Paris via the Avenues of Saint-Ouen and Clichy.  Bernard dresses always smartly in tie and boater, Vincent wears the blue overalls he bartered from a zinc-worker, and his shirt sleeves from top to bottom are decorated with small galaxies of coloured dots from the day’s painting. I wear the culottes and straw hat Suzanne gave me.  I like walking between my two painters, our arms linked together, while each man carries his finished canvas.  
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       Abandoning caution, I asked Sabrine, “What is it about Vincent that makes you care so much for him? Theo tells me that he can be temperamental, argumentative, and stubborn.”
      She promised to pin something on the Petticoat Post Office.

                                                                                                                                    *    *    * 

     Oh Julie, let me paint a portrait of Vincent with words, and I will paint my picture for you as faithfully as I can, and with all the love I have for him. Allow me, please, the liberty to exaggerate, for that is the only way to see what is essential, not the moody vagueness and volcanic tantrums that others see.
      First, my words must be dipped in paints of citron yellow and ripened orange to show the sparkled fairness of his hair. For the gentle blue of Vincent's eyes, I should ask Père Tanguy to grind precious sapphires. Around his head I shall place a halo as broken strokes of sunflower yellow to show his noble thoughts. Behind him, instead of painting an ordinary wall, I will paint infinity, a background of the richest blue I can contrive, and because of the combination of his golden head against the intense blue background I will achieve the mysterious effect he has upon me, like a star burning in the depths of an azure sky.
      Who is Vincent? In his countenance I see what is most consoling and in his soul what is most beautiful. Oh, he is my guardian angel who wields the white ray and who dreams great dreams. Above all, he is an artist! And one who works at his craft as naturally as the nightingale sings.
 
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