Paintings on My Shell

The Snail

During my years of wandering I envied the snail.  Its home is built within its body; whenever it longs for home it shrinks into its shell. 

Now I settle down yet still envy the snail.  Its home is part of its body; this spares it the effort of finding the suitable furniture for its home.

The Search

I had been looking for a dining table.

I did not have a concrete picture in mind and believed I was open to any style.

I was not.  The moment I entered a grand furniture store in the middle of an ostensible desert, I was first overwhelmed by the shining elegance of a variety of designs, then disappointed by the homogeneity beneath the shine.

With one exception, though.

 The Paradox

This is a 3-piece set. 

The table has a decent, imperturbable face, with a complexion of reddish-brown tone.  Higher than average, it stands upon long, delicate, yet unbending legs.  No patterns or any other décor.  Plain and honest as it is, its opaque charm unfolds in the eyes of an attentive observer.

The twin chairs share the table’s intriguing indifference and concealed sensibility.  Standing together, they build an indivisible unity.

As soon as I recognized its harmonious paradoxes and serene pride, I knew this set was made for me.

The Cactus

Back home, I placed the set right against a pair of reddish-brown curtains.  They were a decent match.  However, it did not look ideal to me. 

“Something is missing.  What then?”

I suddenly recalled that a friend of mine had given me a potted plant--a cactus--as a welcome gift to my new home.  It is quite extraordinary because I did not know that cacti bloom until I saw the pair of petite red blossoms.  And it has been blooming since August.

I immediately picked it up from the bedroom and laid it on the table.

“Now at last it's perfect!”

The Snail

If I were a snail, this table set—together with the pair of petite red cactus blossoms—would be painted on my shell. 

What would you paint on your snail shell?