In a darkened vestibule you used your flashlight to find the door handle. I looked out a windowed door at a figure approaching. This wallpapering suits you. And I can see your paintings! You look so beautiful in this light. Their light again. My hands in your canine hair, through all your fights and battles. Everything that happens exists for us to look back on. To become something to look back on, hotly. No mistakes.
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