Sitting on the sun-lit park bench, typing. Car noises come and go, muffled roaring and wheels on the tarmac, but still the baby does not stir. The world occurs vastly, as much inside as out. Conscious breathing, the skin-felt warmth and brightness fades momentarily, a pair of male voices pass by, figures apparent in the periphery of sight, arising then passing away. Oh the sentience off being!
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