Sparkling Since 1939
A marble-white figure caught mid-leap, its drapery whipped up into the sky like a flag catching fire. I kept the body cold and pale against that burning orange, and let "1939" sit right there in the folds of cloth, impossible to miss. Underneath, the ground breaks into jagged flame or rubble, I never quite decided which.
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On your own wall, at its true size — opens your camera
