Where does the apple fall? Not too far from the tree. And where do the flowers grow? In the soil, in which they were planted. Sometimes life seems like it will be what it will be. What was before is now, again. We cook and clean, do the same things, go to the same...
We dream each day of what will be, we dream each day expectantly. The hope that is buried deep in our heart, and dreaming still we do embark. On fields of green, and rough terrain, day by day the dream’s the same. To fill the shoes of the one we admire, to see...
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