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People line the counter for their breads and salads.
Florescence of Brie. Of olive.
In the humid afternoon the brick edge makes a triangle of garden shade.
Two starlings slowly pace.
The distant highway serves as partner to the silence.
Dust motes cross the shaft.
Yuri's last mask possessed: blind despairing reason.
Three weeks left.
In the Station den Haag the people look; they face in all directions.
Love, I need.