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  • He really wasn't there. He was entering a sacred, silent world. The cold winter wind gave way to the zephyr of a new spring and his mind, just a bit clouded by a mug of dark, tasty beer, needed something else than daily anxieties. He needed silence. He found it on the top of the hill, a while after the end of a carillon play. The magic box opened and he entered it. Now he really wasn't there.
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