A cold morning in a land near the sea, silent look through life through the car through the highway, then we will go as if the car. Where does the wind come from? But the feeling of cold wind plus the sound of music, we know that is living. Perhaps life is the most precious gift to God for us. Why in the morning we have to rush to the line without stopping for a moment to look at the sunrise, sip a cup of coffee in the small shop, gently rocking the sound, we find ourselves ever lived properly?
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