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They almost seem to be
constellations, a million high-speed years away painted in the sky. You look
through these Olympians down to the layer that sticks the rest
together; it’s there mostly hiding in the inside corner of your eye, as a
trickster, pulling your eyes back to their origins. And it is then that
you recognize them, these floaters, as familiar images, as the colors of
bold courage and advancing lines of a painted orchestra. Jesse Reno
fastens his work up high in the sky, buries it deep in our old mind and
electrically flashes the brilliance of a young, aged master wading through
his own lore. |