seshat's blog post - The ice factory - part 4 of 5

He looks at his palms before placing them on the block of ice. Little by little, he feels the cold penetrate the skin of his hands, the muscles, the bones. And transform itself into a growing ache rising up to his heart. Genevieve sees John’s body tensing up.
“Just a little while longer, it’s almost over.”
In vain, he looks around for a clock on the wall to count down the seconds. The pain, which has now taken a hold of his body entirely, sharpens itself into a piercing ray of light. He feels transparent, like a shard of glass caught by the sun. Just when he thinks he can’t endure any more, when it seems his flesh is about to shatter, the pain softens abruptly and a glowing warmth dawns at his fingertips.
He is no longer a random fragment of glass, he is now a perfect prism splitting the light into a cascade of unknown colors whirling before his eyes. Through this dance of colors, ancient landscapes reveal themselves: snow-covered mountains, impenetrable forests, oceans breaking apart on wild beaches. An essence of life springs from the ice, an energy that bewilders him.
Eyes wide open, he looks up at Genevieve. She simply smiles at him and places her hands on his. This is how, on her forty-seventh birthday, a day which started out quite ordinary, she becomes mistress of an apprentice for the first time.

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From that day onwards, Genevieve receives John in her workshop each evening. First, she speaks to him at length and shows him the techniques and finesses of ice sculpting. He drinks in each word and studies each move with the same unwavering attention.
Then, she reverses the roles and watches him as he tries to create his first sculpture. After scarcely an hour, she is sure of his talent, but she says nothing.
On several occasions, John catches her watching him with a singular intensity. What disconcerts him is that she doesn’t look away.