That was when the world wasn't so big and I could see everywhere. It was when my father was a hero and not a human.
Sometimes I think my papa is an accordion. When he looks at me and smiles and breathes, I hear the notes.
Papa was a man with silver eyes, not dead ones. Papa was an accordion! But his bellows were all empty. Nothing went in and nothing came out.
Liesel observed the strangeness of her foster father's eyes. They were made of kindness, and silver.
When I was growing up, I wanted to be a house painter like my father, but I was always screwing up when I went to work with him. I had a talent for knocking over paint and painting myself into corners. I also realized fairly quickly that painting bored me.
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