Today's OneWord: Gallery

In the gallery, the paintings were melting. Not due to the hot sun, but due to the gaze of the surrealist, sipping a glass of sauvignon blanc imported from Italian (which he had surprisingly been able to sneak into the museum without anyone noticing. The guard even asked for a sip). As his Dalí-esque mustache bounced with excitement, he let his arms become crooked like the hands of the clock and tick tock, tick tock away.

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