Oh, that's beautiful. Poor Feuilly!

Beautiful fic, the poem went very well with the story. "I am too close/too close for her to dream about me." I'm glad I'm not the only one who has ever heard of Szymborska. :) Great job!

Wow, Taskir! That's good. Abby was right to choose this for the spotlighted story in the newsletter. It's really nice! I like the imagery and wording, especially these lines: " I don’t work with yellow, blue, and

green: I paint in gold and lemon, cerulean and aqua, emerald and chartreuse. But for the life of me I can’t find a better word for her hair

than red. It’s just red, that’s all there is to it. It’s not scarlet or vermilion or ruby, it’s red. It’s the same red that I’m reaching for every

night in my dreams and that, when I wake, melts like smoke in my hands. " And also "Her hair smells like every good red thing that ever existed: fresh apples and ripe strawberries, full-blown

roses and red wine still, but a sweeter and cleaner red wine than people like me will ever taste." And the part where she is "up and trembling again like a puppy afraid of a storm." You're talented and I can't wait to see more of your work!

Oh, I like this. The imagery, especially. Poor Feuilly.