Does it ache when there is nothing to bear its weight? A presence felt more in absence, a shadow in the periphery.
Touch the unseen (click me)
The fingers dance upon memories of what could be, tracing lines on the skin of the void.
What is lost becomes a part of the landscape, a mountain range of what was once familiar, now serving as the horizon of thought.
In the absence of touch, the mind crafts its own sensations, electric storms across an empty field.
Feelings can take physical form as easily as they manifest within a dream's embrace.
Do we imagine ourselves whole, or do we build a fragmentary self from pieces unseen?
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