Amidst the ebb and flow of passing souls, a ceaseless train roars, its cry echoing through the rarified, scorching air. Yet, you yearn solely to dance—amidst the throng, vigorously sweeping your hands. You just want to dance, engulfed in the mist, wildly emancipating the self. Navigate through the frontiers of the mind, erasing memories of being compressed and obscured.

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Mumbling Sand

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Lost Shadow