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I am a cloud floating in the sky, and the sky is stored inside a jar

I am a cloud floating in the sky, and the sky is contained within a jar. Each day, a part of me drizzles on dirt puddles, metal fences, and monoliths made of glass. Sometimes I knock on the heads of people, who are nailed to benches or gliding over coiling streets. On a damp, drizzly July day, no one bothers to look up. And there I go—from pipelines, drainages and sewages—to the open sea. I see my love glinting in the azure waves here. Beyond us stretches the horizon. What will happen if we continue walking East? Will we drown together? Will we perish in the Sun’s eternal embrace? On a rock, I watch him swoop down into a blanket of coral and tiny fish, among other billions that make up the ocean, which appears as a flat rectangle from a distance - or sometimes as a sparkling pool of champagne on posters. He has vanished. Then, I find myself rocking on a train that slithers through the darkest part of the city. A man stands before me, a puffy existence in my nose. He does not have a face, like other passengers. Nine thousand seven hundred and fourteen days have passed since I began this journey, and my eyes are becoming hazy. I must do something to stay awake. As I read the man's posh gray checkered shirt, I see: cell1, cell2, cell3, cell4, cell5, ...

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