he saw colours and i saw words

He was an inkblot in the sea of white paper.
She was black - ugly to the world, and important to every masterpiece.

In white-walled schools of students being herded in one direction, there aren't enough lines to hold her words, nor enough colours for him to fill in his sketches. Maybe they can find those missing parts in each other, two clear comets in a sluggish crowd of blobs and faces

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