trees border the meadow - my meadow - to the east, making a shadowy forest. the forest tapers off to the north, ending near the horizon, where hills gently roll to the north, making the earth look like an ocean made of green and brown waves. a stream flows from these hills, through my meadow, and continues on, to the ocean far south from here, an ocean that can't be seen, nor heard, from here. to the west and south, there is nothing but flowing grasses, only interrupted by the stream. with every breath of air, every breeze, the grasses move like the waves of an ocean, like the ocean far from here. the sky is stuck at twilight... no day, no night, just twilight. stars and what's left of the light from the sun are friends here, never to overtake on another, always equal, very calming. my meadow, and the area around it for miles, never has been touched by mankind, nor ever will it. not one man has ever made it here, none has seen it. my eyes are the only that has seen the beauty of it. this is my place, my meadow, never to be touched nor seen by the outside more, never to be known to man.

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