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  So I was walking that night, talking to myself. The air was thick around me I could almost touch it, the street was slippery wet, and there was nothing behind nor ahead of me and my whispering voice.
  And suddenly, in the blink of an eye, mine stopped seeing clearly. I could not see the cracks underneath my feet and the lights floating above my head turned into big fluffy shiny clouds with no end. In fact, every thing I'd laid my eyes on had no end, no edge. The things in front of me just merged one into another, and I wasn't even capable of tell colors apart, because of the darkness falling all over me, because of the dim of the streetlights.
  But I just kept walking. And talking to myself. And even thinking out loud that maybe it wasn't me the one with the problem, that there was nothing wrong with my eyes.
  Maybe, and just maybe, it was the world around me that turned blurred, that lost all its boundaries, its edges. Maybe it was the universe itself  being foggy before my eyes trying to tell me something, to make me see myself losing my own boundaries, having my limits out of sight, and forcing me to frown a little, it was making me set some new ones just so I can see everything again shine in bright new colors.
  So I just kept on walking.


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The sky was red. Bluish, orange, red. Blinding when facing the sun. She had her head on the edge of the matress, her endless hair falling downward, softly swiping the floor. Lying across the bed, her lower back was on the other edge and her legs ascended all the way up the wall to the window, where her feet rested, and danced, and swayed embeded in the sunset's orange light. She had her eyes closed, her lips barely half-open, her fingers intertwined, resting atop of her stomach, which gently moved up and down with every breath she took. Regarding him, he was sitting a little more over there, his back against the wall and his head against the window, his feet on the floor. Still, silent, looking at her without knowing she noticed it. He was just a movement of her hand away, and she had no trouble admiting she wanted to touch him, that she wanted him to touch her. She wanted a little intimacy, fingertips, a first time, goosebumps, a shiver, a smile. But she only heard him breathe i…