The landscape sang to the sunlit cloud that it was in eager anticipation of much rain.
The landscape rose to meet the rising sun as a proud child shows a parent their accomplishment.
The barn blossomed on the hill amid the grass and the meadow flowers, as if one day it sprung up from some precious seed. I guess what I'm saying is, it belonged there, and if it were absent the picture of that landscape would be missing something very special. So though the timbers were aged and the light that streamed in from the holey roof illuminated the dust like ethereal confetti - it was truly a great place, I loved it.
Rock arose from the ground as if it reached for the sky - the peaks of the Alps sculpted by the raindrops of eons. They were green at their base, the forests gathered by nature's wand. Then there were the roads that climbed the Alps, wending this way and that, making tight turns that felt for all the world as a fair ground ride.
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