“your life / It’s a painting hanging in a dark museum”
Guillaume Apollinaire
After death knocked me out, I
woke in a dark room. There was one painting hanging on the wall, lit by a
spotlight. It was a portrait of my love who died, and it was all I could see.
In a corner of my eye, I noticed
a crazy kaleidoscope of images flashing with feelings and jumbled thoughts. But
when I tried to look directly at it, it moved to another corner.
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