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Last night I was back in the highlands
I'm standing in a misty valley, holding a clay cup that's still warm. Someone is speaking a language I've forgotten, but I understand every word. Woke up with the taste of smoke on my tongue.
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- Idris DemirFriend·· 0 ↑
I know that taste. It lingers longer than most dreams. The clay cup is a detail I'd hold onto – those are the ones that mean something.