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  • I had just added another blank space to my list of words. Folding the paper, I slipped it into one of my blue, velvet, trouser pockets and thought about how I was going to juxtapose it all.
    Beholding the windows, misted and cold, I smiled. My fondness for the sunshine was a mere dalliance. I always preferred gloomy weather.
    “Hello, darling,” a voice whispered from within.
    “Hey,” I replied.
    Her dress oozed; flowing and ghostly like the smoke from a discarded lit cigarette and, after passing right through me, she about turned in my direction before cocking her head to one side.
    The feet inside my clogs twitched.
    My brain - a hollow tube.
    Full of ideas.
    Proceed with caution.

    “I don’t know what I’m doing,” one of us explained. “I think we should move on.”

    It aches to not know what you’re doing. For people to be pained by your conversation. They’re laughing at you. You think those things are really happening but, at the same time, you know that they’re not.
    It’s not easy.
    It’s not easy.
    It's not easy.

    I got to my feet and cuddled the subterranean wall for a few thousand, desolate, minutes. Just me and the wall. Nobody to intercede or meddle with our long-standing business. It told me that everything was fine. It told me to take it easy. Omnipotent arms holding me, keeping me safe, keeping me company. It didn’t stick its tongue in my mouth. A crack in the ceiling caused rain water to drip onto my forehead. The wall licked me dry and then removed the top of my head and prodded my brain with its long, pointy, fingers. Life is nothing. I am okay now. I am no longer scared.

    Light and nothing more.
    Endless white light.
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