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Then I return in a flurry. An eruption of work like I'd been conjuring it in some unknown temple.

The master of this was this italian artist-muse I knew. Incandescent in person, a walking hallucination. But she'd vanish into deserts on drug fueled pilgrimages, into studios where she bled oil paint on abstract canvas, into the offline ether where no one could reach her. And when she reemerged, she was feral, luminous, magnetic allover again.