From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Nora-Wood crossed the Atlantic and landed in New York. By the time she arrived home, night had fallen, the lights were on, and New York was shrouded in a peacock blue splendor. The city's prosperity and bustle surrounded her, but it seemed particularly alienated. The more lively and crowded it was, the more lonely she felt.

She was exhausted.

Obviously, jet lag didn't help.

Pushing open the door, the lights were bright. Judy-Buck was just about to leave when she walked up to her and said, "Hey, Nora, Anson is in the studio."

Nora's heartstrings fluttered. After the joy, a hint of worry appeared--

Her youngest son has outstanding talent in painting, with an innate sensitivity to colors and lines, a temperament that he was born with. But Anson doesn't like painting, because immersing himself in the world of painting often makes it easy to get trapped by his own thoughts and escape into the darkness.

Nora herself is involved in art exhibitions, so she knows the spiritual world of artists very well, such as Christopher Wood, who suffered from delusional disorders, John Minton, who was trapped in a car accident fantasy, and Vincent van Gogh, who cut off his own ear, and so on.

Therefore, Nora has never forced Anson, but has given Anson freedom.

When Anson said that he was going to Los Angeles to try acting, Nora did not object--

Maybe this is a good thing.

In her memory, Anson hasn't picked up a paintbrush for a long time.

Nora was a little worried about Anson's condition.

Taking a deep breath, Nora put away those wild thoughts. There was no need to scare herself, "What about dinner?"

Judy could understand Nora's worries, but she didn't say much, "Anson said he needs to control his diet, because this role may require fitness, and even strenuous exercise."

Nora waved her hand, "If you need strenuous exercise, the first thing is to build muscle. Diet and exercise can achieve fitness results. Anson needs to supplement protein, carbohydrates, and... I think he needs some sugar today."

After thinking about it, Nora looked at Judy, "What fresh ingredients are in the refrigerator? If I make stew now, there may not be enough time, but I think it's no problem to make a simple dinner."

Judy understood, "There are both beef and chicken, and vegetables such as tomatoes, mushrooms, and onions are also fresh. Anson had onion soup last night."

At this time, Nora showed her competence, "Then let's make braised chicken with mushrooms, my mother's specialty, Anson will like it, and then match it with tomato cheese and a salad to balance the nutrition. Oh, for dessert, let's make a chocolate pudding, everything will be quick."

Judy asked one more question, "Do you need my help?"

She could see Nora's exhaustion. A long flight and an eight-hour time difference, maybe being busy with dinner now is not a good idea.

Nora's mouth turned up, "Thank you for your concern, Judy, trust me, I can. This is not a big deal, at least I can let Anson enjoy a good dinner. You're off work, the children are waiting for you, right."

Nora gently patted Judy's shoulder, "They should be waiting for you to go back too."

Hu.

Pausing slightly, Nora took a long breath, tied up her hair that was scattered on her shoulders, and like Mary Poppins, prepared to cast a spell, swept away her fatigue, and walked lightly into the kitchen to get busy.

Don't look at Nora's usual appearance as a strong woman, who has nothing to do with the kitchen. In fact, she often cooks. She is not a culinary master, but she can always successfully complete the task by following the recipe for basic dishes.

If there is no recipe?

Eating out is always a pleasant solution.

Clang clang.

After a burst of busy work, Nora finished her work neatly, and left the rest to time. The braised chicken with mushrooms still needs to simmer for a while. She wiped her hands on her apron, took off her apron, poured herself a glass of red wine, and walked towards the studio on the side of the first floor hall.

Creak.

Carefully, Nora pushed open the studio--

Music, gurgling, quiet and peaceful. Anson sat upright in front of the easel, concentrating and wholeheartedly immersed in the world of lines and colors.

He didn't notice the movement at the door at all.

Nora didn't rush forward, just holding a wine glass, leaning on the door, quietly admiring Anson's painting movements. You could capture the chirping of insects and the roar of engines in the breeze, and time briefly stayed here.

Until Anson stopped painting.

Anson stretched and moved his stiff shoulder muscles before noticing Nora holding a glass of red wine, but he didn't know how long she had been there.

Surprise.

On the one hand, he was not mentally prepared, and on the other hand, he was worried about his painting--

Painting, like music, is the most authentic reflection of the inner world, with all secrets hidden within. Changes in style and type cannot deceive others.

After the performance this afternoon, Anson quietly left, patiently waited for the trailer to arrive, completed the handover, and then took a taxi back home.

Obviously, James Franco's date with Alicia tonight does not need to be disturbed by others, and the performance this afternoon not only affected those listeners, but also was a rare experience for Anson himself. He was preparing to record those notes and lyrics, and did not need the help of alcohol.

After the music was recorded, Anson was not confused or hesitant, but became more determined to enjoy life, came to the studio, and after a long time, picked up the paintbrush again, trying to slowly pick up his once sloppy hobbies and explore more possibilities.

He hadn't had time to prepare himself mentally, and the painting in his heart was exposed in front of others, and it was still the mother of this skin.

What if Nora sees something?

"...Ms. Wood?"

After a brief moment of hesitation, Anson joked, and after saying the words, he breathed a sigh of relief and his shoulders relaxed.

Nora could hear the teasing in Anson's words, obviously deliberately not calling her "Mom", which made a shallow smile appear in her eyes.

"Mr. Anson." She also made a joke, "So, is this the Fairmont in San Francisco?"

Following Nora's gaze, Anson looked at his unfinished painting, "Yes, I lived there for several weeks in the summer, completing the filming of a work. When I entered the hotel lobby at that time, I felt that the composition there was filled with a special atmosphere..."

"Summer." Nora leaned closer and carefully looked at Anson's painting--

Anson was a little surprised.

No, very surprised.

There was no strangeness or alienation, but a kind of cordial and free feeling of reuniting with a friend. Is this feeling normal?

Things, don't seem right?

The third update.