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A letter arrived in the mail today. An occurrence peculiar enough in its own right, of course; I mean, who sends a letter? But no, that wasn't the real mystery, though it certainly contributed: a painting, my painting, was on sale. A work I had put on canvas twenty years ago in second grade. I hadn't seen, let alone touched, a paintbrush in two decades. And yet my painting was on auction - in Japan.
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