[Eelskin]

Part 5

The room in front of me was colourful. That is to say, every flat surface I saw was a splash of blues, greens, oranges and pinks. I took a few more steps in and looked around. There were people painting- everywhere. Some were covering the walls, some had canvases set up, and some were painting people- anyone who would stand still long enough to be painted.

?Because we aren?t constrained by space here, we have as much room as we need to do- whatever,? Kristen explained, still riding my shoulder. ?Not everyone is into art, but those who are can spend a lot of time here.?

I walked by a woman who came up only to my knee painting beautiful life-sized flowers on the wall next to the door where I had entered. I approached a man about the same size as me who had laid his canvas down on the floor, and dipped? I had to look twice to make sure I was understanding it correctly. He was dipping tiny men and women in different colours of paint and then having them walk across the canvas, directing them to create paths of footprints and curved intersecting lines. I looked down at his feet and saw a tiny woman, no more than 10 cm high, sitting on the top of his bare foot and paining what looked like Japanese characters in black on this man?s ankle.

I couldn?t believe what I was seeing. I wandered from person to person, admiring the various works I saw. There was realism and abstract painting, and there were some people who clearly had no talent whatsoever, but were enjoying themselves immensely anyway, just painting for the fun of it. I approached one woman, of roughly my size, who was painting something abstract on a canvas tilted to a 45 degree angle. She picked something up and placed it at the top of the canvas and watched as it slid down slowly, leaving a streak of dark green paint along the length of the picture. I took a closer look and saw that it couldn?t have been any regular shape that she used, as the trail of paint twisted and splashed on its way down. Looking down at the base of the canvas, there I saw a tiny man, who couldn?t have been more than 3 or 4 centimetres tall. He was standing up and seemed to be wiping himself off, but being covered in the paint, he wasn?t doing a very good job.

The woman turned to me and saw who was resting comfortably on my shoulder. She was so light that I could almost forget that she was there, especially since everyone seemed to regard all of the giants and shrunken people with such complete casualness.

?Hi Kristen!?

?Hi Joanne. I like what you?re doing.?

?Thanks! Although I can?t seem to find what I?m looking for.?

?What?s that??

?Well, I really think over here,? and she gestured toward a mostly bare area of the canvas, ?I?d really like to have just a little bit of cyan. But none of my brushes are the right size.?

I spoke up. ?Your brushes??

She looked at me and smiled. ?Yeah. My brushes.? And she pointed down at a group of people washing themselves off on the ground not far from her feet, about a dozen of them, the smallest being the poor fellow who had just been covered in green, and the largest being almost 30 centimetres tall.

?Why?? popped in Kristen. ?How big are you looking for??

?Um? maybe 8 or 9 centimetres. Jason is 6 and Marie-Eve is 11, and that?s as close as I have.?

?I can help you out with that. Pick me up.? Joanna?s eyes lit up as she reached out her hand to my shoulder and Kristen stepped on. As she was carried toward the canvas, she dwindled quickly until she was almost as small as my middle finger. ?How?s this??

?Um?? she gently held Kristen up to the blank spot. ?Maybe a little smaller? Just a bit.? And, suddenly, she was. ?Perfect. Alright, you ready??

?Hang on, let me get undressed.? And she quickly removed all her clothes, there in Joanna?s cupped hands. ?Richard, can you hold these??

?Uh, sure.? I stepped forward to take the tiny garments that she gave to me.

?Okay. Go ahead.?

Joanna placed Kristen on her own right shoulder, then took an empty bowl and a tube of paint and squeezed a generous amount of blue paint into the bottom of the bowl, mixing it vigorously with her fingers. She held it up to herself and I watched as Kristen let herself slide down her shoulder and into the bowl. Joanna held the bowl a small distance away from her face and watched as Kristen, laughing, churned the viscous paint with her arms until small bubbled formed in it. She stood up and looked herself over, and noticed her left breast was still showing. She leaned back down and picked up some paint in her cupped hands, and splashed it all over herself, letting it drip down slowly back into the bowl. She turned so that she was facing away from me. ?How?s my back??

I answered, ?You missed a spot.?

?Can you get it for me??

I extended two fingers and dipped the tips in the paint, marveling at how she was no bigger than they were. I pulled them out and touched them to her back, gingerly, covering up every bit of skin I could see. I dipped my thumb and held her as gently as I could between my thumb and index and middle fingers, making sure that I covered her with paint, but also taking care not to squeeze her. She laughed as I touched under her arms. ?That tickles!? I touched her all over her body, thinking back to the night before, when we had had sex? though even then, she hadn?t been nearly as small as she was now.

When I got up to her neck, I pulled my hand away. ?All done.?

?Not quite,? said Joanna, and brought the tube up over Kristen?s head. She squeezed and the fluid poured out over her head, getting into her hair and covering her face. Kristen crouched down into a ball and began to rub her hair with the colour, until she was completely covered. She wiped away the paint from her eyes with her hands and shook them to get rid of any excess, wiped her mouth, and said, ?Okay. Ready.?

Joanna picked her up very gently between three fingers and placed her on the top of the slanted canvas. ?Can I let go??

?Sure. Anytime.?

And with that, Joanna let Kristen go. She fell no more than 2 centimetres, but when she hit the uneven ground, she was completely unable to gain any kind of footing, and tumbled down the canvas, rolling and sliding and flipping head over heels, leaving a trail of light blue colour all the way down the canvas, until she landed in the small basin of water at the bottom. She went underwater for a moment and then her head rose above the surface, laughing and spitting dirty paint-tainted water. ?Okay, pull me out!? Joanna reached in a hand and lifted her out, and she lay on her back, stretched across the artist?s fingers, until Joanna stopped moving, presenting her back to me.

?Thanks for your help, dear.?

?Hey, my pleasure! Anytime. Richard??

I reached out my hand and she stepped from hers to mine, flapping her hands to shake off drops of water.

?You want your clothes back??

?Not yet. I want to clean myself off properly. You want to see the pool??

?The pool? You have a pool here??

?Of course. Who doesn?t like to swim??

?Well, where is it??

?Over that way.? And she pointed to a door on the opposite wall from the one we had used to enter the room. I walked toward it, opened it, and went through.