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There was something magical about the fluttering wind that day that urged me to peek out with curiosity.

A storm of sand swept into the city, a smell of the desert, of dusty longing.

Certainly, I wanted to throw myself into the daring adventure, soak up the cheerful taste of coconut fat when I smeared my dry cheeks, yet dunk into reality that the illusion offered.

A movie later.

What changed me was me and the storm, in a golden noise.

Inside and so close that the outer was knocking.

Come on. It’s time to take the next one.

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