cf. The Dreamer. Beauty? Need. Potential. Breath! You want to sense potential again. You wish. Let him be alone, shy, the only one. You don't come to visit. All alone. We are alone. And try to communicate how you honestly only sense tenderness, vulnerability, and pure awe in this portrait of a chicken wing in wan pink. Awe? Naked rather than raw. The Dreamer. He hangs in there alone, bearing simply shiny tiny drops of sweat. Pure awe, really? Proud not daring. Longing. Helpless. Weak! Weak. Go weep. Crawl!