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The
whispering of the trees, huge, surrounds it. The
growing silence orients his
pale steps. It
seems like it looks at the horizon, his
glare tired, naked, hungry of
blue skies, looking for calm. The
vertigo of life, seizes
the idea of death. The
world dies with him, the
idea claudicates, the
fire turns on, it
all turns on around him, and
the echo resounds, return
to your life. |
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