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■ The oak
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A blue sky, no cloud in sight,
clear and cold the air, it smells of snow still, the wind is resting, only the birds are gathering, I hold my breath, not to disturb this peace Somewhere mountains are sleeping under a soft white coat, somewhere a desert is proudly showing its face in full bloom, as if the world were watching… I breathe in this peace, deeply, let it inside me, it fills the void, chases away the anxiety, it feels good to cradle my thoughts in this blue emptiness, in the core of my soul the echo of a thousand tiny voices, birds chatting… Angels, maybe… maybe this day is cleansing me, this perfect day… Sybille (Sydney) Krivenko 2006
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