The Observer

She opens your mouth and moves your lips. She looks at you from the mirror, fixes her hair, fixes her lipstick. She brushes an eyelash off your cheek with the edge of her little finger. She reads to the baby in your voice at bedtime. She with your body flattering your man, ruffling his hair, whispering tenderness. And you watch. Who are you? Who is she? Who is the observer here? Oil painting on cardboard NFT + physical painting