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Tons of water. Spilling onto the dirt. I dive, and the air is caught in my body as the pressure holds me, in the infinity of the Sea and of time.
The lens on her camera changed the color of everything. The window she peered out of in the attic of the dust and decay, the stale time come to rest, gave her one view of the world. She was content to believe it.
The sun was shining, slowly breaking the grey skin from your face.
How about there was one day where you stopped in the middle of the street and decided to look down at a leaf, and you noticed a pause in the air. That leaf was moving, and you wanted so badly to tell someone, but you couldn't. Because no one saw it.