I tried to paint but the colors ran in a way that made a flower look like a hill with a climber who had far to go.
I painted fast and hard, but not pretty, not profound, so I wrote instead and my thoughts so deep and bright, on paper seemed harsh and trite, so I focused my energies and placed my hope in a fried egg sandwich.
In that first bite I was redeemed.
Washing the dish and pan also gave me great pleasure.
ves.
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