Deep deep deep in the forest of who I think I am. Twisted branches, links and paths and memories of who I thought I was and the sunshine shines down through and lights up the floor and I know nothing, absolutely nothing anymore except that I am alive. The things in my head, the memories, the thoughts and stories all stop when I smell the trees and the dampness of the ground. This is life. This. This which I am breathing in. All else is somewhere else imagined. Somehow I know now that I am a soul, a spirit, an essence and the rest is just some kind of game.
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