When the smoke clears the vision is complete. The parts of the scene I haven’t seen but instinctively know about have a way of lighting on my frontal lobe in the most peculiar way. It is usually a visual with fleeting images that I can more feel than anything else. I don’t need to think as these beacons although occulting are nonetheless like disappearing ink, they make like strobe lights almost as if they are ghosts with plenty of form although I could walk through them as well.
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