Have you ever found yourself with stray thoughts? Not the big ones which come from your day's activities or the concerns in your life, but the small random ones. The imaginings. Maybe they're sparked by a person who passes you on the street, or a chair your hand brushes against in the coffee shop, or the tree you drive past every day.
Where do those thoughts go? Would it be so impossible to keep them all? In a bottle, or a box.
Words. Wordsmiths. Word-readers. Are we valid? Are we needed? Does it matter? If not, are we chasing pretty colours to idle time? Or are we being led?
Questions without answers. Imaginings without roots. Welcome to the scrapbook of Persia Thorne.
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