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Snow clouds fill every inch of the sky while the artist carts his framed, exactly 23.5-inch square digital graphic prints into the gallery. He leaves wet footprints on the worn, maple floor. The young curator with dancer-straight-back posture and the soft cotton blouse enunciates the rule: “All nail holes must be filled and painted after your show is down. I have a jar of paint in my office.” The artist nods a bit too eagerly. She grimaces, pivots and returns to her office to shuffle documents into folders on her computer desktop. The artist stares at a blank, white wall.
slush puddle
a little wider than
he can leap
by Jeffrey Winke
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
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