Spinning Pins

The weaver and painter are illuminated by orange leaves. They are confronted and toppled by orange sun on orange trees. There are corridors and edifices made of orange, subversive backgrounds of orange trees, orange lamps and finials. All the light is a slow red bulb coming on and on and on; the days are orange-sweet, set off like topaz. Orange trees surround and rise like buildings; they begin laying an elliptical carpet of themselves at their ankles, at the weaver's ankles, at the painter's eyes.