There are things that are real.
There are things that are true.
There are things that have never been - and will never be.
There are shadows of sketches of forms - captured in the wisps of the fiction that have been created during the brief time that humans have dominated this world.
Figments of imagination.
Words - that strike chords so deep in the psyche - that they are like the ringing of steel on an anvil - for they resonate across time and space - with...something.
Such is the beauty and grandeur of the tales told of a man in a blue box.
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