We walked along the riverside, our long gowns trailing in the white grass. Up ahead a small blanket emerged from the water. Captured in its own warmth, red, dried herself off with herself. Presenting her corners stiff, protected, and yet, inside, pleading, she, the blanket, the little she, shyly bowed. We did bow in return. We bowed lower than the blanket. She wrapped herself around herself for she fell in love with her color, her color red. And we did, too. And we both reclined in the sun, feeling the deep warmth of white light. How gracious of the sun to share with us, with us and the encircling crystalline stained glass chrysanthemums.

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