A table, a chair, a bed. More is not there. The new is incomprehensible to mundane penetrated into the consciousness.
.
.
.
As in a dream.
Strange dreams roam my nights.
random but not unknown.
The reality is far too much. Like a bird I would fly off the most.
alone because of the perspective.
small and insignificant as would the people of the infinite horizon, which is noted at the turn.
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