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Prose

Skybird

I just saw a bird in the sky. Wings wide, resting on the thermals. Looking down, surveying, planning where to descend next. Content at the moment. There is no wind when you glide on the wind. Calm while storming. Follow the air to be still.

This is unedited automatic writing #2. I empty my mind, write without thinking, not caring to be coherent, to see what I will get. The result is not always “good” but posted here as part of a study of how to access the inner workings of creativity.