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By James Ysidro

Marc Chagall(oil on canvas) (1914-1920)

The air is cold and damp today,
So I play a violin
Because the sky is purple
And there are birds
That fly straight through it
Without ever knowing why
Without needing to know why
Everywhere I look
There are sixteen different versions of myself
I cannot recognize
Who in turn do not recognize me
But the snow is still and speckled
Everywhere I look
So I play a violin

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