raza
I walk along until a group’a trees come out’a the mist an’ rise above me. For a moment, I pause an’ stare at them, their twisted trunks both beautiful and alien. I try to get close enough to touch one, feel if it’s solid. Not real-solid, but dream-solid. They are. I decide to press forward, into the copse of trees, hands outstretched to touch the trunks if I can.
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Raza goes through the forest
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Raza goes through the forest