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Violet, Me, Them & One Heart

©  WRiTER oN THe MoON

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If I said that I was born on October 9th, 1854; I will probably draw myself in black and white.

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However, imagine if it occurred to me to say ... I don't know, that I have not been born yet but that I will do it on October 47th of the year 1,230,824, I would do it with many, many colors. Hundreds of billions of trillions...

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I am an artist!

And I live just by and for her: Violet, my imagination.

She whispers to me and I write; sometimes she invites me to open my metal box of colored pencils. There they are placed: thirty-six pencils arranged by color. And every time I open it I smell them and imagine a colorful forest with orange winds.

I've been thinking about her all night. My one true love! And I must be a bad person; I have neglected my work, obligations and studies. I live in something like a bubble that isolates me under the sea, calm today. From down here I see the stars that have been dropped to be cradled on the surface of the water. It is very beautiful and even more so when she now sings . But I can't, I shouldn't!

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Now I affirm it, I must be honest: I was born on October 47th of the year 1,230,824, and I live in the year 1854, specifically and as my diary corroborates, I arrived on October 9th, when October had fewer days. And my duty is to observe without interfering. 

And then she arrived, she... 

My one true love!