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May 9th, 2003 - 3:24 p.m.

And, am not there.

Somewhere. Underneath a waterfall. Is a space carved in the rock face. One meter tall, and several meters deep; enough to maintain dryness.

Inside, is a sound similar to the womb.

Inside, is a down blanket for comfort.

Insides are lit by candles.

Leaving no space for forgetfulness, ineffectualness and strife. Just polite biscuits and inoffensive bowls of café au lait. Nightmares, with their wraith like stance and eerie sighs are washed down, clichédly crashing into sharp rocks.

After a hundred years, or several months, the inhabitant will suddenly shed skin, revealing an armour of silvery scales and hair of seaweed gills. The mouth and nose, ceasing to exist. And this creature will wander the ocean floors, until it screams, and dies.

N.

�

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catching holden
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