my home is on the delta

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An image is wandering thru a story, having as landscape a dreamy realm insurmountable. I'm getting caught in the drunkenness of the pictures, colors, and sounds, while various fishes are breaking the water mirror, making the water-lilies dance bathed in the sun. The multicolor birds chirp for the fishermen. I guess that even J.Y. Cousteau could've been losing the notion of time, and could've been murmuring, if he was here, finding out, amazed, like you, right now, that my home is on the delta.

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