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Two paths join, each worn and weathered. The world rusts, dies and falls around them as they do. Why is it so beautiful? Is it just temporary, simple awe of the scene or will this place always be perfect no matter the season. Each day I believe the second even more.

Two paths join, each worn and weathered. The world rusts, dies and falls around them as they do. Why is it so beautiful? Is it just temporary, simple awe of the scene or will this place always be perfect no matter the season. Each day I believe the second even more.

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