To call her dress red is absurd. Comparing this red to the cuteness of a ladybug or the most fun part of a rainbow is beyond insult. Her dress is so red it’s black. Such a heavy red only exists in the unnerving fantasies of jealous spouses and the most forbidden parts of a murderer’s mind. Yet, there she is, twirling her unrealistically red dress around in a parking lot. It’s a dank gray parking lot, with vehicles awaiting the most mundane part of someone’s day. These are entry level vehicles for folks with entry level jobs. No roof racks, no sunroofs. Her dress is so long she has to twirl it before it hits the ground. She isn’t on her way to a car, or on her way from a car. She just dances and twirls her insanely red dress along an outstretched arm in the middle of a still parking lot. She lets everyone around her know that art isn’t created; it just needs to be revealed. We are blessed to experience it when those who first see it decide to share.