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Then the weirdest thing happened.

She undid her veil and all creation was undone, in a single twirl of hands and cloth all creation is undone.

A waterfall of red hair flows freely now and thirst, the mere notion of thirst screams in vacuum; vanished.

I wake up buried in oceans of crimson velvet, the waves smother me perfectly. No silk believes in silk for her oceans give birth to soft and smooth and original.

My eyes, overwhelmed by the sunrise, breathe new air – not air – incense infused with intolerable sex.

I free a single moan from a breathless windmill turning the pages of her majestic book, her pages of pink and plum made from divine trees.

Then the weirdest thing happened.

Waterfalls rush, oceans overflow, all perfumed wetness kiss her pages and. She moans back.

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