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Rating: A fragile sterile cube of transparent crystal.
At the perfect center of the cube a simple wooden chair, the contemplation of emptiness, of nothingness, of being.
Notes of guitar, harp, light synths, lightly float on the rustle of fleeting thoughts, on fragments of life that, like ghosts, move unseen, perhaps only sensed.
Silence, maybe just for a moment.
Meanwhile, outside it rains.
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