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Fog swirled on the road behind, doing fantastically ethereal dance, and with him, it seemed, dancing and singing the whole of nature.
Stunned feast white night, we were silent all this time.
I felt my knee on your hand. Road after a few steep lifting unexpectedly brought ashore a desert lake.
Fog was somewhere behind.
I carefully sehal the beach to the water’s edge, pointed his finger in the cassette recorder and looked at you:
- Let’s go swimming?
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