It pumps blood; we know that now. The tightness in the chest, the thumping, faster, slower, everything in motion, even as we are frozen still. Always moving, growing.
I know it is an image of a heart and a seedling. Does the seedling sprout from the heart, or does the heart carry it? We cannot tell from this set of information; a not-quite-solid black background and the illusion of an elegant, asymmetrical, grey shape created by uniform, gouged marks that point in this and that direction. Like a meditation.
Ba bum, ba bum, ba bum.
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