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 "her path to integrity"


upon hearing the wood flute, nature leaned that little bit
closer. it silenced and listened. all was hush, save for the
world's breath. like the quiet tick of the clock's tock, the
rhythmical breath breathed in harmony. in, out and in, out. all
smiled to the harmony for when there is harmony, there is naught
to listen to. when there is naught to listen to, nature may
concentrate on its breath and its lean.

`t. imaan tretchicovmanicova
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