CLAY dust floats in the blue light. LEO attacks a block of alabaster with a mallet and chisel. Each THWACK echoes like a gunshot.
He looks up. Eyes wet but burning.
He walks to a shelf. Picks up a small sculpture—a woman reaching for something just out of frame. Maya carved it. He turns it over. On the base, in pencil: “For Leo – finish something.” starving sculptors script
(softly) You made this three months ago. I still haven’t finished a single piece.
LEO kneels. Puts his forehead against her knee. CLAY dust floats in the blue light
Behind them, the alabaster block begins—just barely—to look like two figures holding each other.
“The starving sculptor’s only luxury is beginning again.” He looks up
(not stopping) They say Michelangelo slept in his clothes. Ate bread and wine. Drank his own sweat.