The Distant Affair
The dream is not of water, but of wire. It is a grid of silver, stretching to the horizon, humming with a low, electric current. You stand on the other side of it. You know this. You have always known. In the dream, you are not a man. You are a function. You are a perimeter. You reach for the mesh. It is cold. It is hard. It does not bend. You pull, and the wire sings a sharp, high note that...
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