Trash Art & Recycled Art

We had a table who’s legs were made to grow with us. I have a memory of my
small hands and arms,covered in that very swampy green paint that is a
common sign of having gone way to far,my fingers running little waves all
along the edge of our table. With only my brother and sister,streaks of
swamp in their messy hair, and swamp on their laughing faces that came
closer and went away, and came closer again, as they lent backwards and
forwards, basically doing some sort of breast stroke on the spot in the
paint.