And so the mask of intellect falls and the emotion intercedes between the spaces. The Olympian gods, exsisting in the dream world and blessing it with their eucharist approval, frolic next to the faeries, the wee folk, the Erlking and even the hobgoblin. For tonight the meadow is full of daisies.
Oh for the weaver of dreams. Oh for the catcher of the firefly. This has been a time of unlocking Art. Please respect mine own.
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