You’re not back yet. The dream still grips your mind like a drug, its winds blow over your body. Behind closed eyes the world is colourful. It’s as if at the bottom of an ocean an oyster showed a pearl so shining, its light reaches to the surface and up into the sky, making the clouds dance an act of a play. And it’s but one small weft thread woven into the tapestry. You see the whole picture with all its moving parts, inescapable, its features and moods your prison and liberty. Still, it doesn’t last long and you quickly jump into one such moving part, shrinking and falling into something mysterious.

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