Rena hid her fear due to her extreme physical abuse behind a beautiful facade – that is very hard to sustain. She had lived her life in extreme isolation. I now believe she was sent by an angel-muse to find me so that we could begin very important spiritual work. I had looked down on the breaking waves, and asked where she was, the love, and muse, of my life. Five minutes later, she appears. https://rosamondpress.com/2013/07/21/irene-rena-victoria-easton/
As we left the Art Department Rena once again slipped her arm in my arm, a lost sign of love and resept that you don’t see these days. I was her escort, but, she was leading me to a destination unknown. There was not a soul in sight. We were in perfect balance and harmony.
“Where are you taking me now, Rena?” I said with a peaceful smile, for she was showing me her town, as I had shown her mine.
“To the museum!” she said brightly, proud of herself that she was waving the white flag after our fight, our slap-fest when I got into the back seat of the Dodge to get some much-needed rest. I had taken the back seat out and put in a mattress so we could take turns sleeping. After I showed Robert how to get into gear on a column shift – he…
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