After a breakfast of multicoloured cornflakes I flew upstairs as a classical Persian demigod, shaking the hand that had mysteriously pushed itself out of the wall as I did so. My studio had been recently colonnaded and I had purchased Bacchanalian wine stains to authenticate the floor. So many wise old owls had congregated on the windowsill that they obscured the light. I painted in the dark for a while before having to put the light on to find my cup of tea, I didn’t notice the capybara swimming in it.
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