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■ A 8th Bienal do Douro sem limites ![]()
Romanian Spell-Checker ![]() Contato |
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2009-08-21 | [Este texto deve ser lido em english] | Submetido por Elena Kostenczyk
I leaned back against the soft snow bank, letting the dry powder reshape itself around my weight. My skin had cooled to match the air around me, and the tiny pieces of ice felt like velvet under my skin.
The sky above me was clear, brilliant with stars, glowing blue in some places, yellow in others. The stars created majestic, swirling shapes against the black universe - an awesome sight. Exquisitely beautiful. Or rather, it should have been exquisite. Would have been, if I'd been able to really see it. (For the full version of this chapter please follow-up to the Romanian translation)
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