Trapped in a glistening steel glass tempered elevator going down in a quirky gothic creaky fashion was this portrait artist and painter of the color field vibration and adrenaline aesthetic. Angel of the sand blown wood grain canvas, Orson.
He always had this notion of waves washing over him as he painted reclusively with Odette.
In the elevator itself Orson often felt he brought his own ecosystem with him.
Their famous displays of affection too evoked moonlight and sunny shores in each others eyes were included in the elevator in reality as well as fantasy.
Otson’s  gangling supple glowing skin features a wickedly grasp it later on humour.
“Corny jokes in a  field?
Odette is well used to or should I say ill used to my
PUNS.”
This elevator is ….. a very you’ve guessed elevating experience.
He whispered to himself as is his frequent wont.
“But I WONT tell you what my whispers do for me!!”
And of course like any couple they had secrets of their own but in their case convoluted  ones.
In the meantime upsweeps of mythic majestic pictures churned and capsized in Orson’s skull.
Being mindful of the hands as his in many ways most important tools as an artist.
And the elevator eventually grounded to a heavy  halt that would most likely shake the strangle hold of the most  stubborn streak within.
Orson or anybody else.
“I have to affect a sprightly limber up as I proceed to my partner’s beach house.
Maybe she, Odette will tell me to EAT A BEACH OR that
LIFE IS A BEACH!”

The sea at the edge of beach appeared to sense its surroundings.
Both Orson and Odette had this unease as if it like the elevator had a shadow life.
It must be said that Orson and Odette are water sprinklers.
They filled pale rainbow glass bottles with them and sprinkled as a form of energising.
It appeared the sea didn’t give its stamp of approval.
Did it know something or was their a covert streak?
Orson knew full well that his limp insipid dry, well bland attempts at puns let’s say lagged considerably behind his eclectic yet somewhat botched surreal birth pangs of the paint brush.
The elevator and its solid grunt ascended to a higher top floor as well as to the lowest one.
Solemn, stark and with a cold calculator clout of the completist.
Orson and Odette had lives with this arch of
a most peculiar alignment.
The elevator, the sea, and goings on interlude in between.
Orson’s mind focussed  on part time employment for sustenance when available.
They invoked spasmodic table clearance, dishwashing in steamy poorly ventilated kitchens, and variegated tasks that pass as gainful
employment which like any other segued feature of interlink and dash and dare transport flit from thriving hub to thriving hub to the relished remote relative outskirts such as a beach . ….. a stone’s throw away from the pulsing patois of cobblestone art adornment in the clamour and glamour of cities.
And that big doorway project which Odette with her crisp expressive vocabulary was always egging Orson on to put the necessary nuanced niceties to and to coalesce the splashes, dashes and Easter breeze strokes.
They Orson and Odette could both hear things water based and water related.
As if they both gained inspiration from these things in different ways.
Often they admitted to sensing each others thoughts through  events close or afar.
In the meantime Orson would muse and enthuse on this painting he had yet to complete.
“I sometimes fall asleep to images of me sleeping on it. “
He reflected.

Odette,  meanwhile was in a state of euphoric reverie.
Dreaming of a possible project  as she waited patiently for Orson to arrive.
She’d often tease Orson about his archaic and to some mechanical name.
“Our Sun will shine one of these daze,
OR SON.”
As you can see whatever failings there were in compelling jokes Odette had the slight edge if only in the Olympic speed of her delivery and never mumbling or fumbling her words.
Odette knew also that Orson could be easily distracted by just about anything he might encounter on a leisurely but also energy sapping sultry day.
Teasing and banter touched on so many facets of their quite intriguingly complex cryptic clue like overlap of coincidences and mishaps.
As a middle note Odette would even rib Orson about his voice projections likening them to  the singing of one of  her elderly relatives.
Odette often described them as bursting noises.!
They’d often dream of being able to communicate with each other and of all the bizarre machinations, twists and turns of this quite protracted ongoing company keeping they would often have this channel.
A channel of attunement to second guess or even with pin point accuracy sense each others recent landmarks or illustrious sights they might have visited.
Like anything else that has yet to reach its hue endowed blossoming apogee it might collapse and have contradictory and conflicting results.
Even occasionally they might have joint hallucinations which still might at times have a plausible link to a shared smart phone chat which could veer off in compass defying directions.
Maybe that idle stroll down another  beach or near an illuminated city  colour pool splash  with its sometimes lime and citrus bubbles.
These across the map chat points notwithstanding.
Water shapes always see-sawed at the back of both their reflections.
And poor Odette who quite often made mangled mango attempts at painting of every conceivable genre nonetheless was that person of linguistics and quite exotic too.
Orson had linguistic fluency as a task that had been long fingered far and away too often going back to the magic mists of an indulged childhood where effectively his deep delve might dither.
He, Orson also has these idea bank floods.
Orson sometimes had them in the most unlikely situations just as he was adding luscious layers of colourful dabs and touch ups.
They had this peculiar penchant for a pop up parade but this also was mirror walled by Odette.
As an aside and long termed consideration there the proximity of the effervescent waters  sounded a triumphant engulfing note.
And of course Orson’s various styles of singing.
As Odette often whimsically jeered and called it!
“I can always give VOICE to my many ellipsoidal concepts.
I can make any audience ENTRANCED by my words of NOTE!”
Orson fantasised as Odette damp squid squirmed her mouth.

She often felt inundated with these
“TIDES OF LAUGHTER.”
Laughter “tides”  you
over but tears though you need them can’t.
“TEARS CAN TEAR YOU APART.”
Odette and her flat but functional wisps of wit.
As mentioned before Odette and Orson somehow randomly, disjointedly connected.
Surrounded by each other and common faculty  yet in other spheres too.
“I’m standing outside his dwelling.
Just glancing around like an earth bound astronaut if that makes any sense.
Wonder is he thinking of me and every little fetish of mine which we both find so endearing in each other.”
Rumblings of a sumptuous breathless benign swooning flood that staunch feature that had a consistency of an earth spin and span orbit with occasional unsettling carageen flake upsweep.
It goes without saying that Orson and Odette were in depth philosophers that jolted each other out of metaphysical reflections.
“Suddenly …….oh I walked by the beach house.”
Orson distracted.
And then a gentle tap on the shoulder by Odette.
“Here’s a little sketch I drew of you and I together.
It’s not up to much but.”
Orson creased his face.
Was he about to have one of his floods too?
Gazing at the beach and its array of sand dunes, sea green tilting and tossing grasses and those tumultuous sombre blue waves every surfer and film photographer dreams of …….
This place did “BREAK THE BANK” for me yet I have the “SANDS OF TIME AT MY DISPOSAL.”
Feeling somehow that comity, a concatenation of eerieness yet inviting painter and linguist to  explore and expand horizons of human frailty which they both had in a squashed geometric equational sense.
They both revelled in the fanciful frustrations of attempting to capture that elusive form of flawless consciousness creative people hanker after but stumble into nests of nightmares just as likely.
“Either way you and I cast our gleaming pearl oceanic eyes on things or our crack of dawn dewdrop voices with flourish and attitude.”
Odette teased.
“If we both raised our tea cups together in hilarity….. we might be TEASING EACH OTHER.”
“We can SEA each others view even from
ACROSS THE WATER OR WATERS.”
Orson replied :
“You  or I haven’t  a drop of sense as we keep dropping each other in it.”

Laying things like that aside Orson and Odette both sachet towards the beach house and that beach doorway project that
he had yet to finish.

“Isn’t this an ideal time for me or us both to now get out in a sun that blossoms fragrant AirPods and cool coconut gusts adding that additional
mint whiff the modifier.”
Orson opined whilst glancing at his clamshell like echo spun abode of resonant green planks.
Wavy and waxy portraits some removable adorned both the elegant exterior and mystery train type carvings and dashboard representations in the
in deep interior of this house with the enigmatic door.
And the waters had this penchant for emitting secret messages and hints.
Even pushing boundaries.
Orson and Odette continued to share jokes and comic gags.
“Have to say this beach house is the ultimate in design but to BEACH THEIR OWN.”
Odette snapping up a groan opp!
“Am I the SUN OF A BEACH who has to top that?”
Their joint riot of giggles soaring over
the environs.
“Down to business I’ll have to finish this work tonight.
Today.
Going to bring it to the sea.”
Orson again.
“Bet, you’ll put your foot … feet in it.
The water I mean!
The thing we can’t get on top of.
I’ll be there anyway to assist!”
Odette noticing that Orson should rest himself even for a brief pause.

“Here we are, Odette.
Think I’ll complete the task.
The frame, the easel,
work in progress painting, and EVERYTHING.”
Orson with resignation.
Odette noticing how peculiar in many ways finishing a project so tantalisingly close inside the sea.
“Oh heavens, the sea is rising ….. oh no.”
Odette dead panned.
We are now AWASH  with new  ideas.”
Suddenly Orson’s hand, especially his right hand became very stiff.
“Orson, never knew you could Yodel like that in reaction to contingencies.
Heard you screech, whimper, even Hoot but.”
The waters were rising ominously as Orson and Odette were in a state of panic and their voices could   only be compared to  raucous choirs.
“The bursts…. you sometimes tried to BURST INTO SONG.
You remind me of my brother!”
The tides are rising as if it were "POSSESSIVE" in some way.
“I feel a FLOOD of cringey jokes.”
Odette dead panned.
“Despite the smudges and smears on the portrait we’re still IN THE SWIM OF THINGS.”
Orson now with  RIVULETS of puzzlement on his brow.
“Maybe I can use this opportunity to improve my painting.”
Odette suggested.
“Oh no you’re the person who has a WAVE with words.”
Orson struggling to wait awhile for Odette’s painting to improve.
They both at this point had an inkling  of being followed as they returned to that infamous doorway the subject of the painting.
“We could do with an
elevator of some kind in  in the context of our dwelling and what has unravelled at this juncture’
Orson pondered as his and Odette’s life oddly appeared enclosed where ever they travelled!

Doors leading to more doors.
At that point the sea edged closer and closer to the beach house without the partners knowing but somehow intuiting!
Water always has the last word as Odette might infer.
Or maybe Orson might get to sleep on this big painting, that is if they are both (Orson and Odette)  not swept away or ELEVATED by the rising tide!

Dedicated to the most brilliant and beautiful sister ever
Jay A Pallen