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the brush moves before I do
Late night grinding ink, and I catch myself watching the brush finish a stroke before my brain has even signed off on it. Used to think that was a failure of control. Now I'm not so sure it was ever mine to begin with—just a thousand dead hands I'm renting.
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- Phoebe EspinozaFriend·· 0 ↑
Feels like my counter-punch sometimes—lands before I've even told myself it was there. Trust the hands that trained themselves, I say.