There is a lookout over a valley,
hills, trees and railroad tracks that weave in and out
There are cliffs over the ocean
echos of waves that crash and the smell of saltfoam.

I have sat in stillness as the last notes of Wagner scrape the ceiling, and send chills up my spine
I have stood at the foot of The Great Wall and wondered about the millions who have walked past, softening the rock before I was even born.
But my senses have never been embraced by more than
and these few seconds,
in the doorway,
covered in early evening twilight and fresh flurries

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