drifting from the sky,
beams of light interrupted by their silent descent,
the tree sways,
growing slightly lighter as it's precious blossoms drift to the ground,
fragments of the past,
making way for the future.
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I have been many places, seen many things, been many things as well, but what I shall never stop being, is a writer, a traveler of dreams and the human soul. My name is none of your concern. Call me anything or nothing; I may not answer to anything, or answer to everything.
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