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Terracotta Hands
They were chocolate brown at a glance; dark and secretive. When I got closer they were more of a rustic orange. melded with grains of gold and flecks of ginger. Covered in cinnamon grazes, then glazed with a coating of honey. In the centre were petrol tears; glistening black, placed in the middle of each eye like a well-behaved child. Enigmatic. Silently they laugh to themselves, masking their smirks with a terracotta hand. Then thoughtlessly they drift away to another place and time. Back to brown, the magic is gone.
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