“Painting the Perfect Woman” – this pretty much sounds like a title of a dark classic novel that doesn’t end well. You know, that sort of book that leaves a gaping wound of anxiety and freshly minced doubt of how the world’s reality actually work?
An imperfect man painting his perfect woman.
Beautiful eyes, body toned as sweet as a Victoria’s Secret model, lips that could make the night bloom, voice with an acoustic of a midnight orchestra, makes love like porn star who can act, reads the same book you read, listens to the same music you do, reads and loves your poetry, laughs at your joke every time, dances like a ballerina swaying through lounge jazz music and does the samba like a mellow inferno on ice…and it continues until it builds up that ‘perfect woman’
An imperfect man painting his perfect woman.
Will we ever meet the perfect woman? Never – at least not the ‘perfect one’ you had in mind. Perfection skips as we grow older and personally change.
The perfect woman? She would come from coal – and in time as you take it – would build up into a diamond. And that kind of perfection is built to last a lifetime.
I want to make a movie about the perfect woman. Now, I need to build up on the story and an actors and actresses. Timeline? Nobody knows.
