The world is a child’s drawing. The transparent yard with its house on fire. Sharks in the ocean, everyone screaming for help. Our big bodies with visible hearts. The child labeled each of us “stranger”. Some of us were in love, some sad, and some of us floated off to heaven. The sun was forever setting, yet always smiling.
The drawing sat there by the window for months, until the old man with clouds for hair used it to start a fire.
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