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Next year we will sit on the porch and count migrating birds. Children on vacation will play catch between the house and fields. You will yet see how good it will be next year. Red grapes will ripen till the evening, and will be served chilled to the table. And linguid winds will carry to the crossroads old newspapers and a cloud. Next year we will spread our own hands towards radiant light. A white heron like a light will spread her wings and within them the sun will rise.
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