The images were so realistic and vivid it seemed as if you could hear their conversations, or the clanging of swords, or the gentle breezes through th... meadow. Each work of art was framed in a gilded frame and had a shiny gold plaque with the creator’s name and the title of his work and all of the plaques glittered down the hall under the spotlights. I could have stared at the paintings for hours, vivid watercolors, rich oils, elaborate sketches of battle scenes. None of these paintings were. I first heard it while riding in my dad's old pick up. I was lost in memories. Memories so real I could hear his voice while the real world passed by outside my door.My memories were even more real that night, than they had been before the change. The memories of my dad were just as real as the ones of me running through the jungle an hour earlier. All my memories had equal weight for some reason. I expected that it was why my orgasms were so intense even after the change.While listening to. More

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