167.

And the question quickly came to haunt him. The color of his umbrella against the sky. Or, its outline, so to speak. Or even a potion, or a serum, or some other kind of cure. In fact, a fixation on creating something perfect. A perfect day.

from Not Blessed by Harold Abramowitz

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About Amber Donofrio

A writer, contemporary art enthusiast, avid reader, baker, nature appreciator, and art critic.
This entry was posted in Literature, Quote and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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