The Masterpiece Of Scribbles


He gasps and points with a

Wizened finger

“This stroke here is just brilliant.”

She narrows her eyes in

Utter confusion

“Uh sir, this was made by a toddler.”

He gazes at the paper, colors

Scribbled in

“Does that mean it can’t be brilliant?”

She sees random and strange lines.

He sees a child’s joys spread out on paper, and what’s more brilliant than joy?

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