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1. This is a park. It is unseasonably cold for April. There's snow on the ground, about a foot thick.
There's also a medical student named Elsa here, very gingerly balling the snow up in order to make a snowman. So far she's made the base. She has to keep stopping to rub her hands together though...snow is too cold and too wet to build snowmen efficiently...
2. If you go down to the woods today, you're sure of a big surprise. Sort of. Well, an unpleasant surprise anyway. Because rising up in the middle of this clearing is a house. Alright, cabin. It's made from wood and quite nice looking. It's a lovely sight altogether if you ignore Mari.
She's currently varnishing it, a radio on the ground on low volume. A cat lies stretched out in the windowsill, blinking in the dappled shadows. It's altogether rather peaceful.
For now.
3. What this right here is is a room of brilliant white. Nothing quite seems to exist, as though this room is empty of everything; meaning, possession, material of any kind.
There's at least one material being here, though. It's Miach and he's lost. Now and then he sits down patiently to wait for someone to find him, but this room is very big and he never sits for long before he starts out again on his meandering path around the white box.
Where is everyone? ...Where is anything?
There's also a medical student named Elsa here, very gingerly balling the snow up in order to make a snowman. So far she's made the base. She has to keep stopping to rub her hands together though...snow is too cold and too wet to build snowmen efficiently...
2. If you go down to the woods today, you're sure of a big surprise. Sort of. Well, an unpleasant surprise anyway. Because rising up in the middle of this clearing is a house. Alright, cabin. It's made from wood and quite nice looking. It's a lovely sight altogether if you ignore Mari.
She's currently varnishing it, a radio on the ground on low volume. A cat lies stretched out in the windowsill, blinking in the dappled shadows. It's altogether rather peaceful.
For now.
3. What this right here is is a room of brilliant white. Nothing quite seems to exist, as though this room is empty of everything; meaning, possession, material of any kind.
There's at least one material being here, though. It's Miach and he's lost. Now and then he sits down patiently to wait for someone to find him, but this room is very big and he never sits for long before he starts out again on his meandering path around the white box.
Where is everyone? ...Where is anything?