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 Today I parked my car in the usual spot. I sat inside waiting for the song on the radio to finish. I really like that song. Somewhere ahead, the shadow of a tree lay on the brick-laid road like a pool of comfort. A crow hopped into that shade. I think it decided to fly but then it decided not to. So just as it had taken flight, it soared a feet above the ground, then fluttered somewhat and landed again. That moment, when it soared - with its wings pointed down, en pointe, it looked as if it were doing ballet. It's body is a little taut with the shade of the tree creating a diffused halo around it. That moment when it soared, it wasn't a bird with black feathers. It was a quiet bird of paradise that simply showed the feathers it liked best.

Beauty echoes.

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