The images were dissolving from our memories like ice thrown into a pot of boiling water.
We can’t accept the idea that they were not important, if so surely we would have remembered?
No.
We felt good, really good, so whatever it was must have been worthwhile and positive.
New pictures appeared. These seemed to come from changes in the weather that day. Mist, fog and blue lights in the sky.
Life seemed full of swirls and fanfare.
The clocks work again now, and we are serenaded with the sound of chimes, bells, and gongs.
We are a confederation of villagers and ocean-traversing sailors.
……
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