I wrapped a cigarette. I made coffee. I opened the window, sat at the little table in front of him. At the moment, that frothy coffee, my only reason to live. I'm looking at the street. How the cat looks like a cat cropped in winter, the last two months, how the tree.
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They were on the third floor of the opposite apartment, now the fifth floor does not appear. The smell of linden comes. This coffee's over. I'il get up and give the flowers water. Geranium seeds burst. I had dipped the broken white violet leaf into the tea glass, rooted, and the joy filled me.
The coolness, the freshness, the coolness in the morning. Cleaning and tranquility. Lime smell, the sound of the nightingale sounds. What do birds do without these trees? Where do they nest? What do we do without them? Suddenly I was scared, the joy of living would never fly again.
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Every living thing needs a home. Birds live on tree branches. They're family. They have puppies. Those winged flies are flying away. But they're always protecting their nests, and if they're tampering, they're looking for another place. They really inspire people.
I'm gonna make a decision about my home. Should I stay. Now I know the answer.
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