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Dot...Dot...Dawg (7/14)

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It was as if the motion of the world, always in your peripheral vision, had ceased and the man was left with thoughts absent stimulation. Dots were present, but of no consequence. Color had escaped the light as if it had a mind and had decided that it was no longer beholden to the bonds of inspiration to which it had for so long been tied. I wondered when it would return, if ever.