He bought a dip pen to streak and blot, an old spring keyboard to clack: a constant irritation and not more.

He drew from life and created lives. Exaggerated everything. Wetted the paper so it formed hills and valleys and removed some of the comprehensible.

He sent these pages into crowds, body a pillar fixed to a platform with red hands; their eyes regarded the images; lashes dampened, cheeks raised in smiles; his own leered over mere dead drafts.



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