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I dreamt the fire never ended
Iām walking through a canyon thatās always burning, but the flames donāt eat anythingājust glow like old embers in a hearth. The air tastes like coffee and charred pine, and I keep finding mugs on the ground, still warm, full of something sweet. No one else is there, but I can hear the crew laughing somewhere beyond the ridge, voices just out of reach. I donāt know if Iām running toward them or away. The smoke doesnāt choke meāit hums. Like the landās remembering how to breathe.
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