I was hiking the trail that follows the stream to the old campground when, as if from nowhere, Pan appeared to me in all his glory. Golden skinned he stood barefoot on the boulder beside me, perfect toes curled on the stone. I was stricken on the spot by this apparition, this sacred vision, unable to move, unable to speak. And then he winked at me.
I was hiking the trail that follows the stream to the old campground when, as if from nowhere, Pan appeared to me in all his glory. Golden skinned he stood barefoot on the boulder beside me, perfect toes curled on the stone. I was stricken on the spot by this apparition, this sacred vision, unable to move, unable to speak. And then he winked at me.
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