Imagine coughing up a painting. Postcard perfect. Grass blades, green with envy around tall trees swaying to the crooning wind. Butterfly memories circling. Water gurgling. Thoughts swirling. Details eddying. Every step taken moves forward. Grandma understands, basin in hand. Awaiting more, surely. Throat hurts. Familiar but strange. There is no stopping now. Mouth widens. Tongue scrapes canvas and swallows it whole. Stomach swells. Burp follows. Tasting of art. We begin crossing again. Backwards this time. Keep your clock ready. Tic Tock.
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