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The Pillow Book
I fall asleep, an open book snuggling against my left cheek. Inhaling the fumes of the ink, the inkling that’s seeping into my snout, the printed strokes of the alphabet, the tidal of words drifting frivolously around in my cranium. Filling the hollow spaces with dreams, fantasies, imaginative creatures influx, settling in a place where their existence will transcend.
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