Today I heard a round music. The pencil crossed over itself and drew a circle to ensnare me. A chime rang through. The earth was a perfect sphere. The air formed a perfect cone.

Yesterday I heard a sharp music. The chalk grated against the wall and broke itself in half. The needle etched a diagonal line. The dust was filled with broken glass. My ear filled with distant screams.

Tomorrow I will hear a perfect line. Forever it will repeat itself and will always be the same. The growing vine will appear round as a ball and shade me from the rain. A word will emerge in the distance, farther than the eye can reach.

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