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An idea forms, secret and semi-conscious, like a root sprouting. Water it with attention and it whispers, what if? Think yes and the flower buds, crimson red, ripe to be harvested. Pluck it, share it. Discuss probabilities. Morph the feedback, collaging into a scheme. Spread it around like a story. Steer conviction. The plan: create something new for the masses. Make it better than roses blooming in sunshine. You’re a genius.
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