Mark was pouring himself a scotch by the time Meredith reached him..

There he was with his back to her pouring himself the scotch. She could see by his stance alone, that she had upset him. She hadnt meant to. She just didn't think before she spoke.

Once he had poured it he stood there looking at it.

She moved towards him placing the folio down to his side. She then moved and put her hands on his sides.

"I know this girl who's heavily guarded, and is currently hormonal." she told him as she ran her hands up across his ribs. "not to mention that her folio, her private folio, is something that she doesn't normally share."

Mark shifted slightly but still did not speak.

"I'm sorry Mark." she sighed. "I didnt mean to be rude and push you out. It's just, I'm not used to this, you wanting to see my work... and that is my fault, because up until recently you didn't know that i painted. I guess you didnt know a few big things about me... but i do, and that folio is of some big things that have happened to me" she told him. "But if you want to have a look you can, it's just that i'm slightly troubled about something that i was talking about with Auntie Lisa, and was trying to focus on that."

"What troubled you?" he asked, as he had his drink of scotch.

"There is a gallery that wants some of my work. But they want some of the paintings from my personal folio. So - i just dont know which ones to part with. I mean they are all to do with different events in my life, they are my most emotive." She explained. "Now i dont know what to do."

"Can i help?" he asked.

He turned to look at Meredith. She bit her bottom lip nervously before finally nodding. "Ok, i guess, but you dont know any of the stories." she said quietly.

"Why dont you tell me?" he suggested, "that way we can select a few paintings that might not be as big, as a few of the others."

Meredith sighed and then noddded. "Alright." she said as she moved to climb onto the bench. Mark moved to stand between her legs. He reached for the folio and turned to the first one. It was a beautiful, the textures alone with the sky at dusk, moving from red to a light yello/orange spoke volumes of the path Meredith could see ahead of her. The sky alone gave him hope, not to mention the fact that the boabab tree at the front stood still strong bearing it's scars.

"The trees are me." she whispered. "There are one's that have been cut down, as my spirit too has been cut, and the tree at the front, is supposed to symbolise that the last person that tried to cut me down, didn't succeed, she didnt succed in wearing me down."

Mark looked ot her, he had nodded at her words, but was not sure what to say. He thought about it before he finally did speak. "It's about your mother cutting you down isn't it?" he asked.

Meredith reluctantly nodded.

"Is that something that you wish to remember? Do you wish to remember the verbal beatings you took from your mother?" he asked.

Meredtih shook her head.

"Well then that one can go to the gallery." he said confidently.

Meredith looked at him shocked.

"Look Mer, not every memory, is going to be something you want to remember in years to come." He told her. "You need to consider what memories do you wish to keep, and which ones do you not." he finished before he turned to the next page.

They continued through the folio with similar conversations. Meredith being surprised by Marks input and Mark being amazed by the beauty and raw emotion in some of her artworks.