Adonis Archontides

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In the expanse where land and sky converge into a realm of endless possibility, there exists a room caressed by the hands of time. This place is Nowhere, and everywhere. A wall runs through the middle of the room. The longer you stare at the wall, the more you feel like someone is looking back at you. It dawns on you that there are other worlds than these, but to get there is to undertake The Departure from the familiar to the embrace of the unknown. It's never easy, but your mother always believed in you, so you believe in yourself. You leave your shoes all neatly piled, and whisper a Soliloquy: The Sea will be your guide, just as it was back home when you used it to orient yourself. Your ship cuts through the azure. The salt and sun on your skin sting, and you want hide in your cabin – don't. When you finally get to The Island, you will be all gold and tough. Make a bee-line to the nearest coffee shop (take a moment to admire the bright red awning). Order your coffee, gulp it down, flip the cup and wait impatiently for the brown sludge to run down its sides and coalesce in your saucer. The old man behind the bar tells you, "once you put your cup down, you can never pick it up again, and once the sludge has set, your fate is sealed." For the first time, you notice the thousands of saucers and upside-down cups, fingerprints and strands of hair glued onto the counter; The Parting Discourse of all those that came before you. You get a sense that you've been here before. The man says to you, "The Glorious Return will never happen, because you never left." You look up at him, but you're met with your reflection in silver. A little door cracks open, and you're back in the room. Time has passed, and its hands have vanished. You sit down again, pondering where you've been, where you're going to have been, and hope there will be flowers in The End.