The Object is defined.

Walking away from what this was, he found himself higher than what life could handle. He held a sphere in his hand and asked of it to Be and to Spin. No matter what you saw in him, it was absent; life has fled his body. A force has emptied him out. There he was, an object, waiting to be defined all over again. I told him to wait but he had to run. He sailed into a horizon of one’s creation and dived into the meaning of a Rothko painting. It seemed like a dialogue of the knowing of the unknown. I don’t know when the journey has began and where it may end. The blues sounded like a recording of abstract sounds. Waves and splashes of some sort of liquid tiding in towards the end of a day. Linear and tall figures standing high and full of a feeling. Light reflected off the leaves of the collected fruits left overnight in a bowl on the table. He found her and brought her out of the water with him. They smiled at each other and even held hands. It was all okay until it was not. He created this disorder and only he could allow it to continue. He chose not to. And so, it lasted for 45 minutes and then came the dark arriving like a dragon spitting fire and covering the world with ashes.

We share a religion  which contexts are usually a disclosure of something unknown. “Tell me what that was! I have a need to know; a right,” I’m writing a book about a man who fell in love with a sea creature. Nothing needs to make sense of earthly realities. Allow what you need to believe and believe what you think is real. He brought his head out of the washer and waited for a second, an apocalypse? It was still dark but rays of some light source entered his enclosed space and caused some disturbance. He received light as a gift. He no longer felt lifeless. He felt a heartbeat around him as if music played in the background of a movie..

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