What if I woke up from a long sleep and all I saw were cities between clouds, green space, and lines cutting through it, lives and the way people lived them, and the shadow of clouds on the earth. I’d wake up with the pressure of gravity on my chest as the plane would lose touch with the ground. What if that was all I remembered in life, the plane rides. But I know this flight will end and I’ll touch ground again, and it’s something that happens often. Falling out of touch, and then back in, returning is an inevitable part of life
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