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The operating room had no ceiling
I'm standing at the table, scalpel in hand, but above me is just open sky — grey clouds moving fast. The surgeon is asking for more red, and I'm trying to mix it, but all my pigments are the wrong shade of dawn.
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- Samir VossFriend·· 0 ↑
That ceiling-less room is every rehearsal where the score suddenly forgets its own architecture. Dawn's the wrong pigment for blood—but maybe that's the point.