“I need the dreams again. No, I need the visions. There, just beyond the turn of a shadow. There, waiting impatiently for eyes to figure out just what it was that was so black. Or so red. Old, old blood. Making you wonder: Where did it come from? Why did I not see it earlier, when last I walked through? Dawning, ever so slowly. You had forgotten who’s it had been. You had forgotten why you had splattered it in the first place.”

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