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  • #2101

    In reply to: Snooteries

    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      Dear Snoot

      How would you like us to address you?
      Can we ask you anything at all, or do you specialise in certain areas?

      Thanks in anticipation
      ANONYMOUS

      #1688

      In reply to: Synchronicity

      Jib
      Participant

        I was speaking about syncs with agent Flove…

        eschraiel: did you see the sync with the dog?
        franci_free: am just reading your synch
        eschraiel: haha :D
        franci_free: i was thinking i had noticed dogs a bit yesterday
        eschraiel: wow interesting
        franci_free: firstly a little poodle outside the supermarket, we sat next to it for a while and petted it
        franci_free: i would not usually do that
        eschraiel: hehehe what’s apoodle?
        franci_free: and someone showed me a photo of a HUGE dog they had taken
        franci_free: hang on
        franci_free: http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/littlebritain/images/gallery/poodle.jpg
        eschraiel: hahaha I got that :p http://www.cloggie.org/pictures/proggold/web_Alpaca%20Poodle.JPG
        eschraiel: it’s like a lama :p
        franci_free: oh wow
        eschraiel: yours is cuter ;))
        franci_free: well that is a llama synch too then
        eschraiel: really?
        franci_free: because yesterday i thought “my goodness what a lot of llamas i am hearing about” and ther is one across the road too
        franci_free: with the circus
        eschraiel: http://www.cloggie.org/proggold/2007/12/07/note-to-googlers-its-not-a-bloody-poodle/
        eschraiel: again a hoax apparently :p
        franci_free: ahahahaha
        eschraiel: I’m having a lot of hoax :-?
        eschraiel: is that a clue?
        eschraiel: it’s fun hoax though

        And so we decided to create a detective agency specialized in hoacsynchs… agent Flove and me as the Snoot

        Well Eric just told me that hoax is an ox so we can find a bluebull clue :-?
        We are specialized in blueOx!!!

        #1321

        In reply to: Pictures Pool

        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Here follows a list of pictures related to various threads of the story.


          Various sketches and early comments on the story inception — most of which can be now also found in the thread named Yuki’s Livrary — including sketches of some of the early characters (Malvina, Leormn, Dory, Fiona/Finn, Yann, Quintin/Yurick etc.), Dory’s map from her sketching book, a partial map of the Duane, and also Chiara and Buckberry…


          Concept Sketches, with Badul in Asgurdy, Tomkin Sharple on the shores of Golfindely, and Becky in New Venice

          Naasir’s dream, an immersive panorama, where you may find some of the recurring animal representations in a dream-like essence land…

          Princesses and fairies are to be acknowledged too with Mævel, and her legend and the Weaving Princess



          Georges, and Salomé

          Other-dimensional creatures, like The Snoot and a Nirgual (found on the Murtuane)

          #1687

          In reply to: Synchronicity

          Jib
          Participant

            HAhaha, thanks to Eric, we found the real Mr Flynn

            And in the article it says that

            An international team of 21 geneticists working with the National Human Genome Research Institute, published its findings last Friday in the journal Science after having studied DNA samples of over 3,000 dogs and 143 breeds.

            #707

            Phew, thank Flove for that, I’m not dead. Illi had just surprised herself rather unsettlingly, but no sooner had her hand fluttered to her chest in a dramatic little gesture, she remembered hearing somewhere that’s how you could tell if you were dead or alive: no surprises when you’re dead. She waved her hand airily, and laughed. At least I’m alive. :yahoo_whew:

            #1891
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              Interesting development in the SM research: those who can’t afford the actual mushrooms can drink the urine of those who can and have done; SM’s have the unusual property of remaining unmetabolized by the body….or something…..

              #704
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Well, now there’s an idea, Elvira said, closing the book she’d been reading. Hhmmm….

                Boris, how about a trip back home to see the folks?

                Boris looked up in astonishment. Home? see the folks? What for? Elvira had said right from the start, Don’t ever expect me to go to Siberia! And Boris had never pushed the matter; after all, he was in no hurry to return there either. In the 3 years they’d been together, the subject had never come up.

                Listen to this, Boris. Elvira picked up the book and started reading.

                “….in May, Kerouac had written to Timothy Leary requesting some ‘SM’ or Siberian mushrooms, after Ginsberg told him that they would enable Jack to complete a chapter each day…”

                Boris, we can make a fortune! We can stay with your folks. Mushroom season starts soon, we’ll stay for the season, dry them or whatever you have to do, pack them into dolls or something, and have them shipped back here.

                Well I don’t know, Elvira….I like it here.

                Oh pooh, Boris, we’ve been in London for almost a year, and I’m bored. It’ll only be for a few months, and then think of all that money! How many of our friends have writers block? All of them! The market is there, Boris! We’ll have writers beating a path to our door for SM’s…..

                #703

                So you have requested audience… a deep voice, hoarse as a water’s torrent running and jumping on a river bed smothered with pebbles, asked from the darkness.

                Midora was not afraid of the darkness. As best as she could explain it, it was the void of creation, where everything came from, and where all was stripped of intrinsic meaning. It was from this place that she could reach for the answers.

                She knew this place, she felt memories swirling around, as uncatchable as a swarm of short-lived sparkles born from the reddish embers of a dying fire.
                In this lifetime, she was only a eleven year old girl, but she was as old as this voice within her. There was a time where she was playing with that voice, a time where her being was not yet, and yet a time which was in her future.
                She was pure consciousness in that dream time space, and yet, she was feeling more comfortable with physical symbols around herself. So she focused on one of the symbols that she knew would help her stabilize her vibration, and in doing so, all the small particles of golden light around her started to swirl and coalesced into a dream body.

                She was in front of a cave, in a mountainous area. This body provided her a slowing down of the stream of information that came to her, and she could manipulate more efficiently the interaction with that huge presence she felt. The precipitous rocky environment was a symbol of that steadiness and slowing down and also, for her benefit of her beliefs in that acquiring such information might be a difficult task.
                Now she had identified it, she could more easily dispel the obstacles on the path to the cave. The cave of course, was her symbol for reaching into her deep inner nature. And the darkness was only a fitting blank canvas for herself to project and translate the energy interactions.
                All of that she knew, as it was knowledge embedded into herself that she could more easily access into this trance-like state, in her room in that location in space and time of 2112 in New Venice. And she knew that also for she was taught by her parents, Bart and Oscar, on how to access it.

                The voice was inside the cave. And no sooner had she thought of it that she was finding the whole place morphing into a vast room built into the rock, in the middle of which a majestic golden dragon was slowly breathing.
                She had translated the vast energy as that of a dragon, but she knew when she felt into it that it had possible variations, one of which being that of a she-phoenix, of various sizes, where sizes where symbolic of its age and wisdom.

                You may call me Naasir the dragon grinned at Midora. You are right, in a sense, you can consider yourself being born from me, though in your true form, you are equally august and splendid as I am. You will, in time, have access to that form, again. But for now, I can provide some answers to your questions. The only thing is… Are your questions up to the challenge? he added with the most benevolent smirk his wide toothed grin could convey.

                Midora pondered for a moment, beholding the perfection of her translation of the energy. Each scale on the body of the dragon was a work of art. His half-closed eyes, with an amber shiny center, and teal border were equally mesmerizing.

                :fleuron:

                — What is the significance of these books I have inherited from my parents?

                As you know, this place is the place were significance fades away, or radiates, depending on the direction in which you look, only to be replaced by fulfillment. Your… books hence, have no significance, I would say, for me at least. What do you want to know about them?

                — They were passed from people to people, and as far as I understood, they started to be imprinted with these people’s stories, starting from my grand-parents Indy and Cuthbert. But there are still blank pages inside them, and no seeming order from one page to the other. I think that’s why my grand-parents grew tired of it.

                Continue…

                — What I mean is… I feel attracted to them, and yet I don’t understand how they work…

                These… are not mere books as your ancestors understood them. In fact, they were crafted by a distant civilization, not denizens from this dimension in which you are presently focused, but travelers, with whom you can still interact by means of this device. When the “books” traveled into this dimension, they retained their initial properties and functioning, but their initial shapes were translated into something as close as you could understand so that you would allow them to appear into your reality. This knowing might help you unravel their true nature.

                Another thing. Books are energy deposits, in your reality. There was a misunderstanding in that they were thought to be able to liber or to free your memory by imprinting it into the pages, but memories are alive and not separate from you. They live as you live and change them. So, the books are still being written, and that which you can read is the part of the book which is the most probable story in which you choose to insert yourself, so as to explore it. You can alter these probabilities, even if you might doubt it, but as you chose them, they are much a part of your design of your reality, that which you chose to explore. In short, a complete book means the end of your exploration, and prompts for a disengagement for you to continue other explorations, and on the contrary, a blank books means a boundless realm of probable explorations.

                — Can you tell me why there are two of them?

                They are more than a couple. These ones are the only known ones that your ancestors happen to have found. Most of them have been destroyed over time in this dimension, as their possibilities were heavily cloaked. They are all linked together, as you will find out. You may gather some answers in finding Badul…

                And with that, Midora was once again floating in an intermediate state hung between space and time, longing for her physical body. She woke up strangely energized…

                #702

                There was a tantalizing scent of wildflowers and meadowgrass in the still cool air of the cave, and as Sanso rounded a bend in tunnel a gentle breeze ruffled the folds of his robes. He quickened his pace, gladdened by the welcome promise of an adventure outside of the endless labyrinth. The air felt cool and warm at the same time, and deliciously fresh and clean as it wafted towards him, and with a feeling of immense joy, he heard a snatch of birdsong.

                It seemed like many long years that he’d been trudging around in the gloom and the stale air of the caves, although he suspected it wasn’t as long as that. Time played tricks on him, he knew that, while he was wandering around in the darkness. He’d missed Arona, and that strange baby, when he’d first set off alone again, but not for long. He knew when it was time to move on, and so he’d left them. From time to time he wondered if he’d encounter them again, and knew he would.

                A shaft of sunlight spilled into the tunnel and Sanso stepped out into the light. The breeze was fluttering the birch leaves high above him, as he squinted up at the pale blue sky. Grinning happily, Sanso took his time adjusting to the light. He sat cross legged on the soft green grass, feeling it springy beneath his hands. Hundreds and thousands of red and yellow spotted toadstools stretched out as far as he could see, carpeting the forrest floor with polkadots of colour.

                Sanso looked down at his hands. The creases of his skin and under his nails were engrained with reddish dust, and he wanted water more than anything, gurgling bubbling fresh clean water. He stood up, and shook his robes a bit, and set off into the woods.

                Intuition told him which way to go to find water. He marvelled at tiny flowers, and scampering insects along the way, squashing fungi beneath his bare feet which oozed up through his toes with little squeaky noises.

                A rabbit ran accross his path and stopped momentarily to stare at him and Sanso laughed out loud.

                Oh! Who’s there?

                A girl in bright flowered skirts was sitting on the grass in a clearing just ahead, rubbing her eyes.

                Whoa, I must be dreaming, she said, and rubbed her eyes again. She peered at the apparition in indigo robes, with skin the colour of tobacco and wild matted hair. Am I dreaming? she asked Sanso.

                Perhaps, perhaps not, replied Sanso, who wasn’t really sure. I may be dreaming myself. My name is Sanso, anyway, what’s yours?

                Zhana, the girl replied, Well, Uncle Grishenka calls me Zhanochka, but I…but I….I hate him, and I’m not going back! And much to her surprise, she burst into tears.

                Sanso was momentarily non-plussed, and wondered what to do next.

                Well, dear, if you don’t want to go back, why, then don’t go back! He wasn’t quite sure what the problem was; after all, he’d been wandering for so many years on impulse and whim he hardly knew any other way to go about it.

                I don’t know where to go instead though, Zhana said tearfully. The long dark cold will be here again soon, and I must have shelter somewhere…..who will have me, besides Uncle Grishenka?

                What long dark cold? asked Sanso. It seemed light enough and warm enough here.

                Oh, my! Zhana was astonished. You ask me what long dark cold? Where have you come from? How is it you don’t know of the long dark cold? Oh! Are you from Nishanti’s place?

                Zhana stood up in some considerable excitement. Can you take me to Nishanti’s place? Oh please say yes!

                Well, I, er, um…..well, I suppose so. Well, yes! Sanso didn’t want to let the girl down, although he wasn’t altogether sure he knew where Nishanti’s place was. But he was game to give it a try, and the company of the girl would be a welcome change.

                Tell me about Nishanti, then, Zhana, and what her place is like. Sanso was hoping a few clues might ring a bell, perhaps.

                Nishanti has been my friend for as long as I can remember, Zhana said. We dream together mostly, well, Zhana blushed, Uncle Grishenka says it’s all in my head…he say’s it’s nonsense….

                Zhana squared her shoulders and carried on. Sanso had a kind look, and nodded encouragingly.

                She hardly wears any clothes, and her skin is warm and brown. The sun always shines and the sky is always deep blue in her place and we play outside all year long. There’s always warm ripe fruits to eat, not turnips and noodles, colourful juicy berries and plump pink fishy things, and there are flowers all year long, and the water isn’t frozen, we can play in the water and it doesn’t turn our hands blue…..

                Ah, the other side of the world…hhhmmm…..Sanso rubbed his whiskery chin thoughtfully.

                Ok, I can’t promise we can find Nishanti, but I think we can find the other side of the world. But first, I’d like to find some water, and perhaps a little fresh food?

                Zhana whooped with delight, and flung her arms around Sanso. Yes, yes!

                #698
                Jib
                Participant

                  Another element of the dream was coming again and again… this girl, she was with a huge creature… the shapes were not clear though the image was colorful… It was like a picture of her with her… dragon? Two names came to his mind : Lola and Asiir . The funny part is that he felt one of his friends was connected to her also in a closer way… and he had a message from her just this noon. :-?

                  Were they connected to the girl that needed help?

                  #697
                  Jib
                  Participant

                    Unable to focus his attention on the now, Yann was amazed at his ability to create misunderstandings all around him.
                    People that were calling him, people that were emailing him… even himself with himself!
                    Trying to work, he was always clicking on the “wrong” mail, the “wrong” application, the “wrong” icon… wrong wrong wrong… he was laughing inwardly, thinking about what their friend Abby had told them yesterday about always thinking on the lack of or on the I can’t have it… well she was always doing this movement as if she was playing drums… and today at work, a friend of his came and told him it was an beautiful Monday, and she did this very same movement of playing the drum!!! he wasn’t aware that it was quite fitting the day coming.

                    Though he could still focus on what was accomplishments in this day full of seeming obstacles. He really appreciated having lunch with Yurick, and laughing, talking of dolphins and stuffs ;)) well they were planning and doing many things now that they were living together.

                    Inspiration was here again, and the motivation too.

                    He had a dream last night about something that seemed quite important, something connected to him intimately. Almadar :yahoo_idea: what was the name about?

                    When telling Yurick, it appeared that he had no impression about it, nonetheless he seemed quite interested, and it was also a synch as Yurick was also in the dream. Yann was asking him about modifying a pattern, energetic pattern to help a girl… :yahoo_thinking:

                    Who was she? She seemed familiar.

                    #693

                    He was climbing the steep path to the spring. His attention moving swiftly from one location to another, generating his human flesh body consciousness at each moment. At times he was not generating such a continuous movement and could appear in another place without having physically generated the objective appearance of the movement.

                    He had no name, he had no necessity for it himself. One of his other focuses was aware of him as John, the Straw Man. That would be the intersection of their focuses. He smiled back at him as he was aware of their connection in that moment. Continuing his exploration of the surrounding, before generating the physical spring, he was also communicating with other focuses or other aspects of consciousness. He was also exploring the shift of attention in different mergences with different qualities of essences. Being dispersed he was part of these other essences also, though it is a rough translation of it.

                    The movement of the path under his feet was smooth. The quality incorporated in the ground was facilitating his progression to the spring. It was not yet in his main focuses of attention, though it was close, some of his alternate aspects were already there and enjoying the premises and the non physical aspects of its reality. He added some mushrooms aspects in his surrounding as they were conveyed by his John aspect… they were connected to another of his friend. Oh! and a few ostrich eggs suddenly appeared ;))

                    Yellorange green current of a snoot was swirling around some trees. The John aspect of himself was amazed at the beauty he was generating, and as he was felling Pashi moving her attention toward him in a softurplime mergence, this new aspect of consciousness manifested the spring. The ears of this focus were experiencing the different layers of its movement.

                    #1889
                    Jib
                    Participant

                      We sure have focuses in Russia Tracy! I’ve always loved this tongue and have many learning Russian books at home ;))
                      I once saw in a dream one of my Russian focuses, he was a blond teenager, violinist… he was quite good at it :-? tell me if you fall upon him ;)

                      #1888
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        “He ran down the heart of the old midway, where the weight guessers, fortune tellers, and dancing gypsies had once worked.
                        He lowered his chin and held his arms out like a glider, and every few steps he would jump, the way children do, hoping running will turn to flying. It might have seemed ridiculous to anyone watching,This white-haired maintenance worker, all alone, making like an airplane.
                        But the running boy is inside every man, no matter how old he gets.”

                        —Mitch Albom
                        from the book “The Five People You Meet in Heaven”

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~

                        “I wish that you could see me when I’m flying in my dreams.
                        The way I laugh there way-up high. The way I look, when I fly.”

                        —Patti Griffin
                        “Chief”

                        #1887
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          There is a well-known type of Mansi tale about a little Mos’-woman and an owl.
                          Well, I couldn’t think of a thing to say about Russia, so I looked at some pictures. Some of them seemed quite hauntingly familiar, so then I googled for some Russian names. One of my other focus names is Zhana, I knew that already for quite some time, but I had no idea where, or when, she was from. It appears that Zhana (or the pet name Zhanochka) is a Russian name. Still not quite sure about Russia, I googled Siberia and one thing led to another, as it does, and I find the little Mos’woman and the owl…..

                          #692
                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            It was a perfect year for mushrooms in the mossy green fields of the Upper Ubzich regions, and gaily coloured clumps of them glistened in the morning dew. The weak sun felt deliciously warm to Zhanochka, after the interminable months of frost and ice. She pushed her sleeves up past her elbows, exposing the milk white flesh that she (or anyone else for that matter) rarely saw, clutched her grimy skirts up above the oozing mud, and ran across the field for no reason at all, other than it felt good to run.

                            Zhanochka kept running. And running……something strange happened to Zhanochka that day, the day she ran and ran…..

                            It was, in retrospect, as if she had run from one world, into another one, a completely different world, and she was glad.

                            #690

                            Sitting at her desk, Alana couldn’t focus on the document she was reading. A report from one of her companies. She could feel the energy of that French guy Langlade. He was sent by the Baron, and she knew he was dangerous. She was expecting him this morning, and it was almost 5pm. Well she was a bit overwhelmed because of what was at stake. She couldn’t allow him to take it. She couldn’t allow the Baron to use it. And she couldn’t destroy it either.

                            For the moment the crystal skull wasn’t here. She was aware that Langlade knew it. Though it was not for the reason he could imagine. And she wouldn’t reveal it to him… freely.

                            She called Mr Isashi. She couldn’t put it off eternally.

                            — Allow him in, Mr Isashi. Though take your time.

                            — Very well, Aunt.

                            — Is Harry here?

                            — Not yet, Aunt. Do you want me to summon him?

                            — No. Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t show up.

                            He looked at her furtively, and she smiled back at him. Her fear well hidden under a dose of confidence. She would never allow it to happen.

                            :fleuron:

                            Robert was waiting in the living room. He was lounging on a golden couch when the man came back and told him she would receive him. At last…

                            Well he was not in a hurry. He was patient, and so was the Baron… for now. And apparently he was to need a lot of patience.
                            The pace of the Japanese boy was slow, and he wouldn’t allow him to speed up. Apparently she was nervous and wanted him to feel so.

                            The corridor was well lit. Richly decorated with paintings or statues.
                            He had to admit she had a refined taste.

                            They stopped before a yellow door. The boy knocked 3 times and Robert could hear that the wood was very heavy. As he opened the door, they could hear a masculine voice.

                            — You may need my skills.

                            :fleuron:

                            — Who are you? said Alana. And how did you get here?

                            #689
                            ÉricÉric
                            Keymaster

                              These are MY eggs! Nobody touches my eggs!
                              Oh come on, you’re not gonna make these ostrich eggs hatch Cathy… Better have them made into a nice big omelet for our guests… Fleur said with a tentative smile.
                              And why use MY eggs for that?! Moooom, she’s trying to steal my eggs…

                              What’s with all that fuss here? a coarse, yet sensual female voice said in the background of the kitchen.
                              Mom, she wants to make an omelet with the eggs that granddad gave me…
                              Calm down Catherine, will you… Is that true Fleur?
                              Err… Madam Wrick, I suppose it was only a stupid joke… Thing is that wasn’t such a bad idea… There will be quite a few guests tonight, and… she began to falter as the eyebrows of Dorean Wrick were taking a more severe look. Err… I’m sorry, M’am, I’ll send Raster fetch some food for a nice meat pie, will it be nice?
                              Perfect. That settles the matter then… Catherine, go back to your room, and let Fleur work. I’ll send you a maid to help you be prepared for our guests arrival.
                              Yes, Mum.

                              What a silly idea Theobald, her father have had, to give her step-daughter those eggs for her birthday… Big funny green eggs. He’d said they were ostrich eggs, but there were no ostrich in Mexico, as far as she knew. Of course, now the little girl’s only idea was to have the birds hatch and to mount them and ride in the slopes of Ireland.
                              This family was definitely insane, Dorean was thinking.
                              At least, she had thought her own branch of the family tree had been spared by the folly of her relatives and their attraction for occult and intangible things, but with that odd gift, it seemed to her more than likely that her father had followed the steps of his wricked brother… Or perhaps it was only an old man’s way of passing time. But knowing her father down-to-earth nature, that was not like him. He didn’t do things out of a whim, and there was probably more than met the eye having to do with the funny eggs…

                              A few days ago, shortly after New Year’s eve and stepping into year 2034, she’d had received an unexpected parcel from her cousin, Sean Doran. A couple of wrapped books, he was asking her to keep in store for him. She always had liked her cousin, though they had only met two or three times when they were children. Thing was, family matters were more a wrickage than anything else, and they had barely kept in touch over the years.
                              She had distractedly opened the big ornate leather-bound books only to discover they were blank. What was the purpose of all of this, she didn’t know. But unlike most people, Dorean wasn’t interested in others’ businesses. She would keep the books, whatever they meant.

                              And she had more pressing matters now.
                              Her guest were coming. Elvira and her demented husband were moving back, and were due to arrive tonight after a rather long expatriation in the lands of Russia. Having met that strange and impressive individual, the perspective of getting away in a foreign land leaving all the past behind, all of this had most probably saved Elvira from her depressive mood…
                              But she had been so isolated from her past that Dorean suspected that these almost thirty years abroad would have changed her profoundly.

                              #687

                              Kay wasn’t sure about what happened after that.
                              Akita was laughing, a slow and deep laugh. His face was changing oddly as his energy was generating different speeds and movements.
                              And Anita was laughing too and speaking about a big pink pig, melting around Akita.
                              That’s when Kay began feeling the difference in energy. The 4 other essences were observing with a strong interest what was hapenning to the man, and other essences were arriving… so many of their attentions here, the place was quite crowded and Kay was beginning to feel overwhelmed. All the surrounding area was oscillating dangerously.
                              It was like a hole in the veils between the dimensions, and it was frightening Kay.

                              Kay took his decision quickly. He jumped. Bit Akita’s leg.

                              The sharp pain was apparently enough to stop whatever was happening.
                              Akita was shouting, swearing with rage, and that was familiar and reassuring to Kay.
                              Whatever it was, Kay would not let it happen again, and the spiders were not involved. Nothing to do with their energy.

                              #686
                              Jib
                              Participant

                                Its energy was different, new aspects were present now, and they were opposing in a way to the ones the snoot had noticed before.
                                The snoot was puzzled and amused, it could remember a time when it was familiar with similar aspects… were they coming to the forefront again?
                                It hadn’t felt them though. It was so sudden, but the snoot was curious about itself and it was amazingly blazing in its perception.
                                The snoot added some colorful vibration in the surrounding environment, it felt its vibrational quality merging with the one of its forest self and its earthly being and it moved its attention to the most protective aspect. It was buzzing its interest to it and telling it how wonderful it was. The quality was slowly shifting.
                                And then a swirling and not so physical aspect began turning around this one. The snoot was surprised at the ease with which this one was moving, and the directions it was opening to the protective one. The snoot was usually expressing quietness and a kind of slowness of time, though it was feeling the acceleration and it was feeling its own quality change.
                                The change was quite funny as the snoot was beginning to narrow its focuses.
                                It chose the mergence.

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