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11:11

I glance over at the clock, and the hands have momentarily fallen in a familiar position. For at least the next 59 seconds, the world is existing within that magical mundanity that occurs twice between each sunrise. A wonderful escape, a fanciful trip into the mystical unknown. It is 11:11.


What does it all mean? When you notice it, when you see it happen, is a portal into another dimension opening? I ponder the possibilities and escape into the magical realm for the remaining 34 seconds. And as quickly as it came, it disappears, and the relentless shift of times moves forward.


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