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The first time he left me was our first Valentines day. I had been taking metal working classes and had made a couple of easels. I didnt have great expectations. But too great for the painter man. It was not the first time I had my doubts, that was a week after our marriage, when I would have walked out on any sain man. But I had never been married before. So obligations are different, and maybe, maybe he would change, this was not the real him.

The second time he left me was about 9 months later. We had opened our first gallery in Jerome. I cant remember what the trigger was. But madness took over as usual and swift response. The truck, old faithful, loaded to the gills and he took off.
I picked up where he left off and threw out all the excess. Not knowing that he would be back before morn. The third time. Well that I barely remember for that was over a decade ago. On reflection it all seems so irrelevent looking back. But then I do not have the troubled mind. Or maybe my troubled mind was just the tonic for his turbulent mind.

Nevertheless 12 years have brought me no closer to the man. Mearly more accomodating. 

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