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■ The oak
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I was lying prone after a perfectly still day. I heard the sun come up, I heard the world's silences and its disruptions. And then I heard the sun set. After that, I was left alone. For hours and hours I listened.. and I dreamed. In one day and one night, I created a world. And I was berthing in it when you came, and you called me sick. Then more people came. I was very happy in my new world; yet you wanted me back. Back to the suffering, back to the misery, back to being nothing. Back to the darkness. And they helped you - all they want is everybody to be miserable, like them. So I returned. But a week later, I was back in my world, and found it more alive than ever. It had changed, it had developed. It had life. A life of its own. Again, you pulled me back.. to reality. And again I returned to my world, some time later. All this - all of it, untill now. Now will be the last time, and I shall never return. My world is flawless, utopic.. perfect. And you? you are the best proof of imperfection. I can't allow myself to be imperfect, the creator of a perfect world -- Imperfect?! No... so long as I found myself of flawless creations - an entire universe. I will leave, and never come back.. this is good-bye. Still.. maybe you'd like to visit me?
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