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Overhead drifts the barn owl without sound. Mice freeze beneath its shadow. Flight is felt, not heard.
I woke up early to the sound of rain on my window. A warm cup of chamomile tea in hand, I found comfort in the cozy stillness of the morning.
An arch of trees lined the cobbled lane, boughs intertwined like clasped hands, and footsteps echoed between green pillars.
Just finished a hearty bowl of homemade pasta with garlic butter shrimp. The warmth and flavors never fail to satisfy my soul on a chilly evening.