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  • It was noon, a perfect noon in a perfect meadow.

    She was smiling upon her kite and it was smiling right back at her, like a wall of ice would to an ambitious mountaineer, glittering just so, in the sun.
    She straightened up, stretching her quarry between her wide spread arms, listening to its gentle murmur in the breeze, hope like a ring waving its magic around her.
    The kite was softly singing its tune, pitching a perfect melody of harmony between elements, a parabola of infinitesimal sounds in the sky above her.
    She closed her eyes to better listen, to find herself in phase with space and colours.

    At the right moment, she let go.
    The dragon shape winked briefly at her and then flew in the balmy air, its tail lazingly drawing a perfect haiku.
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