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In love with silence, as if it was a woman, one invisible observer loved to walk. He was lonely, but at the same time he was completely full. Everything he looked at became a part of him. Objects, creatures and their sounds, parts of something whole and the whole itself. The rustle of leaves that originated from the throat of a wild bird and dashed through the ocean bed, the shadows of whales that swam in the branches of trees, became a part of him. He was ready for the end of the world, for its beginning and for its eternal continuation. He became an occasional witness of something important or unimportant and he went on in endless silence.

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