Mind Milkdrop

Black then white are all I see in my infan­cy.
Red and yel­low then came to be, reach­ing out to me,
Lets me see.

—Tool, Lateralus

Inhale.

Colours are wash­ing over you. Drifting, shift­ing, twist­ing, chang­ing. No point of focus, no sol­id shapes. You feel the con­trast and graze the answers.

And this takes you to a place you’ve nev­er been, but always dreamed of. Where you’re bathed in hap­pi­ness, and you can see the warmth of the light. When you hear noth­ing but still­ness, and feel noth­ing but con­tent­ment.

And this pic­ture in your head is as real to you as your heart­beat. You become lost to this world when your eyes roll back and your head tilts back­ward.

Let me take you there.

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