Dipping down, past surface scratches and clumsy stains this oblong circle fades. Holding its countless kin captive in its eternal arms. Polished and worn wrinkles are forever tattooed in the wooden skin. This circle's outline is inconsistent. Growing in width before suddenly shifting into a line so narrow that it almost disappears from the naked eye. And now, I search. Through moss and sunflowers, to seek and know the grain.
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