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...because that was the way he worked-- holed up at will in a room, painting on walls that he'd never get to see. He'd started with an explosion: a sharpie marker rendition on lightly textured walls. Without thought to allowance, the artist, given this space, was determined to.... Arun left the piano for the sofa, where he fixed his eyes on the ceiling. Nothing safe. Nothing sacred.
Tags:
arun
den

http://community.livejournal.com/twentyseventeen/55763.html
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Published: 2 years, 3 months ago (Sat, 24 Mar 2007 11:59:18 PDT); 10 Kb
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