A young artist lives in the city in a very cramped room he paints from.
Canvasses are propped up everywhere. It's messed with paint and cheap flowers picked from the park across all surfaces.
The artist paints on his largest canvas he sits on an eisel he's made from two brooms as the legs, a length of wood to hold up the eisel, and a tower of plastic milk crates to hold up the back.
He looks out his little window dusted with smog and starts painting a colourful bird flying in the blue sky.
Scraping on the paint, he leaves it unfinished and goes to bed after eating his cup of noodles.
In the morning, the artist wakes to see that the canvas is missing the bird. It's only the blue sky with the white outline from where the bird should be.
Rummaging alerts the artist to a noise behind the tower of crates.
Looking around it, he finds the painted bird looking very much real, but missing a wing from where he left it unfinished.
The story continues with the artist realising whatever he paints comes to life (but only within the size of his canvas).
He decides not to paint anymore animals to save his little room from more chaos.
The painted bird leaves streaks of paint behind it when it scurries and hops around the small room he desperately tries to clean up because it's a rental.
Gradually, the more paint it leaves behind, the smaller it gets.
A warming friendship is formed between the painted bird and the artist before he cleans up the last of the little bird from the ground and fondly starts painting it again.
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