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We are living a century ago. It is still raining, and a children’s babble can be heard from the dining room. I am standing in the large hall and looking down at the waterlogged garden. A car is speeding away on the highway on the opposite side of the valley. Grass stems are knocking on the porch, and the moss on the footsteps is soaked and turning into the bright green color. There is an empty room behind me, and entropy has reached its maximum when there can be no more losses. Every place experiences a moment when the destiny turns it into nonexistence or continuation.
/T.Tisenkopfs. Imagined Place/