He bent over to turn off the machine, and it was there—in the darkest dark, right under that beam of light—that he stumbled over her.

He brushed away the celluloid and, guided by nothing more than a sense of touch, passed a hand over her forehead, her eyelid, her ear, trying to piece together how she looked, and what had happened here.

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A View from the Center of a Lightbulb as it is being Turned Off


Watercolor, ink and enamel paint





 Uvi Art Gallery