full bloom
the painter with no memory paints to remember that he is alive he paints to remember that he is able to paint he paints to remember where he found his brushes last time he lost them every time he paints the cherry blossom tree he thinks he has made a mistake so he paints out the blossom until he only has a tree with few few blossoms just a handful sprinkled across the branches like memory the next day the tree is silver only so he touches the pink carpet of blossoms from the ground with his brush paints them back on the tree and waits for the wind the hardest wind the wind against which no one can argue successfully
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