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May 2013
You look at the paintings you were so proud of only a few weeks ago
and you hate them.
You want to spit them in a fire;
as if
erasing them
will deliver you from the embarrassment of ever having created them
and you slaughter your orchids.

You abandon the thought
in realization
that they simply misunderstood
your art.
Written by
vladimir tres
1.1k
 
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