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He was liberating the imprisoned, full-breasted creatures. The little village of M slept soundly as it was being flooded with fluttering birds. Only the hypersensitive Vera was disturbed by the monotonous beating of restless wings. No longer was there any mystery regarding the pigeons. In the morning the streets were covered with pink-breasted birds as well as grey.
Scent of the honeysuckle, the flutter of the breeze, the song of pink-breasted linnets and their tiny splashings in the birds' pool outside my sleeping-porch, the velvet of the sky at night, with its stars and the motor lights on the highway like more stars below how I love it all!
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