The fervent buzz of an infinite dreamway keeps you up at night. A blue point siamese with a silver-tipped tail scratches at the front door. Point your nose to your true north and imagine yourself walking on waves. Somewhere, a dead poet dreams as the moon grows careless. Do you read the symbolic field with eyes open or closed? You are gently sliding into becoming.
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Today: mineral steam rising out of a vapor cave, the dark magician inside of nuummite, music in the key of G, the brine of seawater, and the thorny kiss of bramble.