Sitting on a block of stone, arms crossed, the mind well and truly lost.
Nothing around him, but an empty ball of space.
Without a shadow of a doubt, the stone in which he was sat on was the most desirable object, yet the mind in which his worlds are created allows for so much more.
When the eyes are closed, imagination becomes the strongest feeling.
Sat on his horse of steel, Truman rode away into the distance, to find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
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