Wood, forest, mountain in the wood, window on the mountain. There is a bed inside the window. White sheets, red checkered pillowcases. A letter is on the pillow, someone is leaving this place. Outside the window is a dried yellow field. On top are trees. There are crows. The branches are all dried out, dark brown, and there are spiders hanging down from them, and the webs look a patch of white mist. The sky was a little greenish in the distance and the mountains continued to stretch away from there. There is a small pool of water on top of the mountain, and up above it is the crater. The crater is connected to the earth's core and the lava is orange, hot and shiny, and when you pour water over it you get basalt. The marble, layer upon layer, and what is in the middle is three-dimensional movement; you can't see it without cutting it open, and there is no way for one to go inside to understand it when it is not cut open. Someone mentioned, "There's a connection to quantum physics." "How is it related? I know some about quantum physics, I have read some books." "WELL, you should revisit it, quantum physics is constantly being updated." The books were connected to a secret vault in the library. Go in through there, the white plain. But nothing can leave there, so be prepared to go back in. The sound of the waves is continuous. Under the sea there is a cave with water in it. The whole space is filled with water, and the water is transparent. Transparent as if you were floating in the space of a white gallery. Only in front of you is a very large patch of green. The green is also transparent. There is energy within the colours, orange has the energy of orange and red has the energy of red. The energy of the colours is very close to the frequency of the character and the sound. Let them run away by themselves. Spread out on their own. Like the ripples of water. The ripples spread out and correspond to the pages of a book turned page by page, to the mirror opposite, all with infinite worlds inside. Space that corresponds to time. The space is huge and it is once again filled with water. The sensation of volume is overpowering, the mind is occupied, like an overfilling of paste, or a precarious balloon. Placed on the edge of a pinpoint, it explodes when it reaches the critical point. Sparks go off in all directions, like the effect of fireworks seen when lava erupts. Fireworks come in many colours. In the night sky. Summer evenings: lots of mosquitoes, power outage in tall buildings. There is no air conditioning, it is particularly hot and the temperature can kill the functioning mind. Florida water evaporates in desperation on the skin and consciousness fades away in the waving of fan. In the middle of the night perhaps the electricity came back on. A snap overhead and the air conditioner closes itself on the air vents. The remote control, sore arm, sets the temperature to 16. it's not so dark outside, but the darkness still brings some drowsy fear. Tonorrow it gets light again. School uniforms and plants, flowers on the building. The wind in the summer, the rain in the summer, the weather. The colour of the sky, the colour of the evening, the shape of the clouds. The way home, the sound of walking, the people on the road. The scenery on the road. The smell of the city. The smell of the city in the sun, the smell of the city at night, the smell of the countryside. The smell of winter in the countryside, the smell of livestock in the countryside, the smell of bonfire in the countryside. The smell of springtime fireworks. The smell of mud, the smell of streams, the smell of mahjong. The smell of banknotes. The smell of the kitchen. The smell of the stove. Walking in the back of the hill, the bamboo forest, the little purple flowers that you have to come very, very close to see. Keep zooming in, zooming in, zooming in, zooming in again, until you can just see pixels, one square, one block of objects. Each one slightly less coloured. One of them was a button that could be pushed down and from there the person went in and disappeared. Like a bottomless pit. It was like a dream, like there was only a little scope for movement. Inside a tiny room of 5 square metres. If you get small, then the room is about to seem particularly large. It can be as big as you wants to be, because you can be as small as you wants to be. A very intimate fairy tale. You're thinking of many things at once, one after the other, two, three, four, five on top of each other, no rhetoric, no coherence, no story in it, one after the other. It's like a train going away, one stop and then another and then another. Sitting on the seat one slides down like a banana skin, the acceleration of the train. The person is soft. It turns into liquid and flows into the sea beneath the train. That image was very beautiful and very similar to a scene you had once seen inside a television. There were lotus flowers in the water, and between the lotus leaves and the flowers, small boats drove past. The means of transport are probably the same. Connecting one block to another quickly is an addictive and enchanting thing to do. One is the past, one is the future, one is here, one is there, one is on this platform, one is on that, one is in this field, one is in that field. No one will ever discover the principles in this. One knows what all is happening to one, although in the sense of common sense understanding, we cannot understand common sense. Movements, I know. Hands move, things that move move, some things move and some things don't. "What is movement?" She asked. The car drove away. She was left alone, standing with her suitcase at the iron gate of the Academy. The vice-principal came out to greet her. Greetings were exchanged. At the reception, under the lights, the host leads something up to the stage. Something in colour. The background cloth was also coloured. This camouflaged world in general is numbing and disorienting. Disorientation is beauty. Beauty is pain. Pain is death. Death is the hole.Hole is crossing. Crossing is antelope. Antelope is grassland.Grassland is the world. World is droplet. Droplet is light. Light is paradise. Paradise is bird. Bird is wing. Wing is depiction. Depiction is feeling. Feeling is living. Living is electricity. Electricity is snowflake. Snowflake is vision. Vision is memory. Memory is mirror. Mirror is spiral. Spiral is Tree. Tree is mirror. Mirror is spiral. Spiral is Tree. Tree is mirror. Mirror is spiral. Spiral is Tree. Tree is mirror. Mirror is spiral. Spiral is Tree. Tree is mirror. Mirror is spiral. Spiral is Tree. Tree is mirror. Mirror is spiral. Spiral is Tree. Tree is mirror. Mirror is spiral. SpiraMirror is spiral. Spiral is Tree. Tree is mirror. 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