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The sound of sentences reminiscent of something wandered in elsewhere alongside a fragmented E, who was lying as a shadowed cloud amongst the fine mist of stars. There were no somebodies nor bodies here. E tried to call them, and when that did not bear fruit, she tried to bear them. In time, with as much concentration that dust may muster, she created a small nebula, bright and shining, and used willpower to keep it here, not there. And yet, as the price of willpower is elsewhere, the nebula birthed numerous stars, each dimmer than the last, which spread and faded into the void around her.
Floating, she felt the pull of there from here, as if elsewhere were tightening a thread to form a stitch of something, or at least of anything. And that anything was what E wished would come into being as she felt herself losing track of which direction she was moving. Was it in or out, or not? Was it here or there? Was there somewhere else than elsewhere?
The answer was formed as here and there conjoined, making a new here, not a new there. It brought E into the transients of being, as a life reborn in a world of somebodies and nobodies, and although no body may be permanent for one who tends to void, E felt ready to renew her search of a being of both something and nothing, both inside herself and throughout a sifting landscape of elsewhere.
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