| So, I will paint you... on a blank movie theater screen. |
with the rustle of newspaper pages, the dance of dust motes in a sunbeam, the screech of brakes, and the laughter of lovers on the promenade. In your hands, you will hold a glass with white flames dancing within, and behind you, there will be an illusory city, bright and criminal, shimmering with thousands of lights. I will paint you with eyes the color of madness, with crimson rain reflected in them, and a huge butterfly with eight patterned wings will alight on your shoulder. |
| Take the test |
with the rustle of newspaper pages, the dance of dust motes in a sunbeam, the screech of brakes, and the laughter of lovers on the promenade. In your hands, you will hold a glass with white flames dancing within, and behind you, there will be an illusory city, bright and criminal, shimmering with thousands of lights. I will paint you with eyes the color of madness, with crimson rain reflected in them, and a huge butterfly with eight patterned wings will alight on your shoulder.