She thought about it, and as she did so memories of the holidays she had had with her mother flooded her mind.The walks they’d taken along the coastline when she was seven years old. Her mother was obsessed with achieving goals. She remembered well seeing other children playing in the sand, making castles- but not her. She had to climb rocks searching for crustaceans, Judith would sing about them : she would give them little funerals. These funerals took on an importance for her mother that Judith never understood..It had all seemed mysterious, mystical even. it was something to do with the mouth. As she looked at the painting in front of her , her lips began to ache, her back to arch.
‘ You are mine, more than ever now.’ She heard her mother’s voice inside her head. Nausea, waves of fear and anxiety threatened to overwhelm her, yet she sat as close to her painting as she could.