Oh, how it feels to be someone’s muse—to live in their thoughts, to move their hands in art, to be the reason beauty takes form
To exist not just in their world, but in their work—their sketches, their melodies, their quiet thoughts between moments. There’s something timeless about that kind of presence, something unspoken and golden.
Like Camille Monet did for Claude Monet. There’s something beautiful about inspiring art simply by being loved, and I hope one day, I can be that source of beauty and emotion for someone too. I want to be remembered in brushstrokes and feeling.
To be looked at the way an artist sees their favorite subject—not for perfection, but for the way light falls across your face, for the way your silence says everything. I want to be the color that changes with the seasons in someone’s painting. To be loved so deeply, so gently, that their hands cannot help but create. What a beautiful kind of immortality that is.
—vic
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