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Lisboa, bom dia (or Heart with no coat)
Some wind was blowing, Fernando. Those frequent april rains have piped down for an instance and your city smelled of dusk and ocean’s vestibule. It is easy to get lost…
The Grange
Neighing of the horses breaks the morning silence. The wet clouds of heat from Astor`s nostrils colide with morning frost and turn into tiny, shiny, barely visible drops. Foggy curtain…
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