

StripesEach Thursday, she wraps herself in knee-high socks, tall boots, and a heavy, white coat. Nothing else. Each large button on the coat is like a perfect antique coin that she traces, wanting to imprint its value on her fingertips. Then, the satin lining a secret next to her body, she takes the bus to an industrial district, where he is waiting to paint.Stripes
He always aligns his paints by the visible spectrum, from red to violet. She comes to him colorless, clean, in a white coat. He knows each shadow of her body, each gleaming highlight; he thinks of her body by regions. The desperate, hungry stripes between her ribs; the indigo
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If your cat barks, it may not be a cat after all...
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o°
now selling tote bags of my work..
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-the perfectly tied umbilical chord-
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take a look at my gallery [link]
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Essence De Lumière
Inspired By The Dark Lights
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Kneel Before Your God
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