What a fine lustre the moon draws in the sky. The wind is swift with winter moving. Sometimes I can't discern the sound of wind from the sound of a fast car going by. Is it that so many things sound like the wind, or that the wind sounds like so many things?
The wind has a voice that can drown out the world with its echo in our ears. It is always the wind with our minds trying to find other sources. The wind is oftentimes an uncredited artist.
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