The village that waved its handkerchief to me one night told me that it crossed the valleys of thirst alone. Fear filled its streets and there were only two children distracted by fear. I was with them, running barefoot searching for birds in the nests. We climbed the mud towers and caught the doves of the house. We returned rejoicing and slept and dreamed of the return of the departed. Oh my God, how long have we been. We remember our holidays
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