A songbird sings in the distance, soft melodies drifting over sunlit clouds. The sun is setting in the west and lavender skies blush as the evening wind whispers greetings I will never comprehend. Magnolia trees line the narrow street, their pale velvet petals drifting slowly to the ground. I am careful not to step on them; my shoes too profane to tread upon the sacred blooms. Soft, I tread quietly, soft, the petals fall, soft, the warm light begins to fade as night insects start their song.
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