The Hunger at the Edge
At the far boundary of this living openness, she sensed hunger.
Not destruction.
Anticipation.
Here the leaning was faint. No thickening had yet occurred. The openness quivered with equal possibility.
She stepped into it.
For a moment, nothing gathered.
Then — the slightest bias formed.
A new leaning.
Fragile. Almost reversible.
If she withdrew, it would dissolve.
If she returned, it would strengthen.
The hunger did not devour.
It waited for repetition.
Innovation, she saw, was not opposition to density.
It was density beginning to gather where it had not before.
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