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Fingerpainting by Dave Fraundorfer | The Doctor T. J. Eckleburg Review
BY DAVID FRAUNDORFER | You’re awaiting my words. Tonight, I'm afraid, they'll be shapeless – wriggling out from the ceiling cracks, filling the room with the hiss of midnight radio static. To pass time, you take out one of my fingers and start painting a picture of our London. You begin with the Thames. I'm guessing here, but you want to capture one of our days: us, hand-in-hand, when I was sober, clean, making sense. Your river is too dirty; the page is smeared an autumn grey, the same grey as my comedowns. Another page screwed up, tossed like a black-market dentist ripping teeth...