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Wish did not see reality as reality. Rather, each moment of time, each precious state and arrangement of the universe was a work of art, a story. He was familiar with stories, and familiar with life. He closed the thick, leather bound volume he held with a careful, almost reverent motion, and placed it back upon its shelf, with the countless other tomes that told one grand, immense story. He called them his Memoriam. A vast collection of books containing the intricate story that had been his life. It was a helpful thing to have, a strength to rely upon when he could not recall why he fought against the constantly beating current that was senescence. A blank volume lay closed on his desk. That, he hoped, would become a work of equal, even greater magnitude to his grand collection.

This place that defied reason, expectation, even natural law. Yes, this was a place that could harbor such a powerful story. The real trick, Wish had learned over his many years of life, was getting the story, containing it between thin paper and binding it, in its fullness, with the ink of writing.

Luckily, Wish had some time to spare.

Quote

You probably get the gist here. If you want to help in the collection and creation of Alleyverse Unbounded, here it is.

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