Every grief is concealed under a light and candid desert; a blurred skyline drops and everything is possible again.

A white leaf sets free to imagine new worlds and lives; or, without any addition, to smile under a frozen and soft quilt that will ease down on each and every spirit motion with its fresh and pointed scent.

On the surface of the lake a myriad mirrors drift orderly in a row; it may even look like they survived alone to stillness.

Except, down and closer, white masses as well start drawing self-propelled waves that seem to grasp the wind as lightly as waters do.

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