Trst via Ljubljana
52 USD
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The seagull cried with a smoky, thin voice, and outside the orange light shifted into a pale green; It will be dark and there will be a month in the quiet, quiet and radiant in the sleeping universe, as a measure of melancholy. And right then, somewhere behind a curved curtain, the sunlight licks the heads of people and gives them a steel will to live, even though their thoughts are snapping like a sawdust through a slot into the ocean.
