out like a lamb

Approaching a fog covered city is like looking at a dream from above. It is hard to be certain where the thin line exists between it's reality and imagination. Is it there? Or are those shadows and silhouettes tricking my mind? It's how this whole life has felt; is this all actually happening? And if it is, how? The closer you get the more sure of it all you are, it becomes more palpable, and suddenly there you are, standing in midtown, surrounded by colossal metal structures towering above your mind.

Perspective is everything. I feel as though I've woken up from a childish dream. The last few years I didn't understand talk of this imaginary world and now it's as though a curtain has been pulled from over my eyes, the sunlight is flooding my room and it is finally spring.

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