She was sitting with her paintings in the dark. She could not see them but she knew. The sun had burned so miserably so earlier this morning and right as now as it was finally getting dark. So here exactly here where she was, and even though they were no longer visible she knew she saw them, she could see them, feeling their outlines over her flesh stampeding and cutting away brilliantly over her, like the movements of some darker sun that crossed her and embraced her and convulsed.
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