So the next day I packed up and grabbed a bus to Cadaques. This is the small town that Dali and Gala lived next to in Port Lligat. I got off the bus and started trekking straight to the master's house. I turned the corner of the mountain road and there it was. In plain sight I could see the home adorned in obnoxious white eggs. Not long now. I passed through various twisting village roads at a hurried pace. downhill from here. A couple of times I almost bit the dust as my excitement out paced my feet. Finally there it was. A place I had seen in movies and pictures since I was 16 years old. I was finally here. A place where the greatest art ever was created. I walked up and touched the dwelling. Emotions overwhelmed me. I started sobbing uncontrollably. It was real... the master was a real man and this is where he lived. Another emotion that ran through me was that I was here alone. I had always assumed Stacie would be with me. I always admired the love Dali had for his wife and tried to show my wife the same kind of adoration. Somethings just weren't meant to be I guess. I was not Dali. I am Loveless. It's time to start walking my own path... the path I'm on.
The next day I found an art store and stocked up on canvases. Went back to Dali's house and painted "Tree in a boat" which is right in front of Dali's doorstep. A storm rolled in off of the sea and it became extremely cold. I would make tourists laugh by shaking my brush like it was too cold to paint a straight line. They all laughed... even though we had zero capability of communicating verbally. It's cool how physical humor is universal. I then went back to the hotel room and finished up what I had started by memory. Feeling extremely inspired by being here I then spent several hours on a Dali portrait... I plan on finishing that portrait tonight.
