Verdigris Anna Zworykina

Munro had hidden in verdigris and discovered a world. He felt unwell and rainy and had encountered other beings in the corridor, so he saw no other way at that moment, buried his face in the green coating of this artwork, which coolly wandered through the misunderstanding of the corridor and whose name was written on a little sign: Verdigris.
Here was a world full of fine threads, sparkling bright Hesperides woven with warm-spicy rosemary. Above, ethereal mists billowed from herb-fresh sage and luminous lavender, chamomile lanterns shining as weightlessly as luminescent magic on glowing galbanum camphor. Inside, Munro soon saw a wild meadow of creaky grasses, where now and then the flower roots quietly waved shiny banners like silver tails, and clouds of incense poured lemons while resins flowed like earthy streams with tiny sweet crystals.
Hours later, Munro saw soap bubbles floating over the vast lavender meadow; it had become warmer now, softer and cozy, like moss. No, he would not take his face out of the verdigris anymore; he didn't care how it looked to the other beings, his head in the artwork. Verdigris was his world.

(With thanks to Sea Mermaid)