The Man, The Banana, The Artist

     Like most, he started as a line, but then the lines started to multiply, crossing each other in a convoluted game of cat’s cradle. He blossomed into an elaborate image of circles and triangles and lines. With a swish and click, his limbs disappeared, and he became a human. A human man holding a banana, walking in the rain.
     The artist leaned back against his chair, squinting at the grey scale image. It was missing a sparkle, a shine, a touch of magic. With another click and swish, the banana turned yellow, and the artist leaned back against his chair, satisfied with his creation. Who cares if the art world would criticize the nonsensical nature of his work? Who cares if some rabid fan of his work would stalk him down and ask why the banana was yellow when everything else was grey? After all, he created art for his fulfillment.

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