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■ The oak
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The road stretches in front of me, full of dust. The big rocks that guard it on every side are mirrors for sunrays. The morning sounds resound in my ears. The raindrops bend the flowers with their wet weight. A bunch of early butterflies are running from corolla to corolla, perhaps driven by the sound of the birds, which invades the air around the just blossomed trees...
over the wood fog leftovers - the day is born The road caries me on towards the ocean. I can feel the soft touch of the wind, and the smell of salt tickles my being. The scream of a seagull wakes me up and makes me go faster. Up in the sky, there is only blue. Only some little traces of clouds dare to trouble the silence. But the hot breeze leaves me no doubt. I go closer to the edge of the rocks, looking down. In perfect contrast to the silence of the sky, the water is restless. White waves, a foamed, splash onto the rocks. The gray of the rocks becomes more intense. The white foam draws on each one something new... lonely rocks in the middle of the water - a shout from the sea The sun is already high up above the sea. The rocks keep fighting there endless battle with the waves. The waves never give up and gather up drops for another hit. The war between earth and water will never end... I get up. I will always carry in my soul the sea, the wind, and the stones that I saw the, so long ago...
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