Afternoon class

 

My days balance the mundane and the not-so-mundane. they are not long，but they feel like repetitive sheets of carbon paper. For someone my age, caught in youthful restlessness, it’s monotonous. I’d almost welcome hardship just to break the cycle.

 

My name is Sage Sun. I’m an international student from Hong Kong, pursuing a Master’s at the British Academy of Art, graduating this year.

 

Class, class, class… sometimes it feels like my entire life is made of nothing else. But this afternoon’s class was worth mentioning - a life  class. 

 

We sat in front of our own easels and as semicircle surrounding a low platform. In the corner of the class, a dark red curtain, between us and the "unknown"

 

The curtain trembled and was pulled back. A male model strode out, and sat on that platform, skilled posing as the professor instructed. 

 

Immediately, eyes scanned every inch of his skin.

 

The room erupted into the sound of rapid painting. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my roommate, Wei Wei Tsui, rolling her eyes and pursing her lips at me. I ignored her, focused on my tools—sketching, outlining, smearing, and erasing.

 

Professor Arnold Alfonso walked up behind me. I felt his cold gaze like a sword piercing my canvas from behind my ear, and at that moment, I was pathetically scraping away my mistakes with a palette knife.

 

"Hmm," he murmured. "To enhance the image, you need texture. Don't worry about technique; visual effect is what matters. You need to capture attention. The eyes are exaggeratedly big, but I like it... such a sad pair of eyes. Not bad. A little more freedom in your brushstrokes—yes! But keep them rhythmic, not messy."

 

He strode to the podium and announced, "Lines, colors, and shapes must be accurate. The color scheme needs a sense of space. You must have keen insight and express your own unique sensibility. Sage’s painting is evocative; those eyes are inexplicably unsettling. It’s excellent."

 

I was stunned. I had received praise from the professor—an incredible moment for a student of average talent. 

 

My classmates looked my way, and Wei Wei’s gaze was unreadable. A smile would have seemed arrogant, so I adopted a look of modest humility. We must accept the judgments of others, after all, if we are to face God’s judgment later.

 

Class ended. As I packed my easel, Wei Wei approached. "Sage, you’re lucky you had the side view, so you can to paint those muscle lines and his pensive profile. 

 

But I, unfortunately, sat in front of him directly, in order not to affect the man's attraction to me, I decisively painted his private parts for black, white and grey.”

 

As we walked out, she muttered, "The great artist of the future has already won Professor Alfonso's favor, humph! That man should be called a monster."

 

Just then, Professor Alfonso appeared ahead, stopping right in front of us as the word "monster" left her lips. 

 

However, I firmly believe that the professor's stern face wasn't because he heard Wei Wei's respectful address.