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| Pure Dreams |
Wisely
cognizant of the subtle nature of time, he would escape into his dreams, by day
and by night, filled with meanings unknown. He waited for autumn, the time of
year when he could immerse himself in reds and oranges. Sleep escaped him in
the endless hours spent walking through the forest and back at home, when he
painted. The fever disappeared when winter arrived and he began to dream again,
drowned in whites, greens, and blues.
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