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Rating: Raindrops dance on the window to the sound of boring winter Sundays
Old home movies with happy faces that bring melancholy. Tapes with the barking dog, forgotten voices of the house.
The dance of candle shadows in the dark of a storm to the whispers of the night and the glances of monsters hidden in the darkest corners.
The oversized wool sweater that itches. Diving into the parents' big bed on Sunday morning and breathing in childhood.
Blurred images to the sound of minimal strings from Siberia, embroidered with flute and dusty field recordings. Folk that warms the heart with its gentle fragrances, opening a magical memory music box.
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