How it feels at THE HEIGHTS

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Like rust dust on your fingertips. Like the soft grit of dead leaves, drifting the way memories do through the mind. Like a caul made of candlewax.

Like old silk. Like new tears.

Like a face glimpsed through glass, obscured by time passed in an endless present, waiting for the one you love to come back, back, back and take you away.

THE HEIGHTS is all desire, experienced or denied, like a tide that cannot be overcome. What a joy it is, to work with, through, inside this material!

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