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Red Gold Song
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Moving, changing it’s shape, and pulsing with beautiful light. Dentritic tendrils materialize before you, extending forth from a breathtaking and profound darkness.
There is a sound in your ears, louder than anything you have ever heard before and yet it does not hurt. The sound of a crackling fire, of someone crumpling an empty bag of chips, or rain on the roof. Suddenly, it is a flock of birds taking flight inside a parking garage. The tendrils move slowly and peacefully, swaying like fibrous kelp in an endless ocean. You cannot feel yourself breathing, and yet your lungs fill with the most invigorating air. Someone has just given you good news on a good day.
There is no form to these things that you see, and before you know it, there is no form to you. You are standing on a trampoline, a friendly soft ground that gives way to your weight while the warm uterine waters keep you balanced. The sound subsides, and you are sorry to hear it go. Now the silence is unsettling, such that you can hear the blood crawling in your veins.
Well?
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