harmony of nature and man, the quiet tranquility of moistening things.
The blend of water and milk, the warmth of spring breeze and rain.
Vast free, long and distant voice.
Blow the bomb and it will break, and the beauty of the flowers is like flowers on the street.
Those in thick-knit sweaters and Goodjohnsen jerseys, the innocent smiles on the faces of the kite-flying children, the vast plains, the boundless sea, the breeze brushing the weeds, the call of the wild, the ode to nature , the supreme harmony, everything is a mess.
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