There is this thing.

It’s this thing that happens. I wouldn’t say that it just happens. It doesn’t.

Yet, when it does, it feels sweet mysterious, suspiciously like magic-a flash of light, and a spell.

It’s nothing; like story.

It’s nothing; like feeling.

It’s nothing; like myth.

It’s nothing; like magic.

This nothing; it is a thing I like the most.

What do you think?

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