Worlds overlap: mine, yours, theirs. They overlap, intertwine, coexist because we project ourselves onto what we are observing. This landscape is us, this person is me. Thus, our doubts and our fears engulf the other: their space, their time, their life. This is the collapse.
Universes immersed in a superficial calm on the verge of being swallowed, upset by these clouds as vaporous, protean monsters. They slide, infiltrate and descend into another world which, in the end, was as dark as theirs.
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