No sooner had the music flickered out like a windless voice or a smothered candle than the volcano offered a quiet remark.

Banners proclaimed that the secret of middle age was youth and the secret of youth was on the way.

Two squirrels recorded all the movements and sounds. Opening doors to a new home showroom.

In the avenues, there were trees, as their names demanded. The narrow bridges across the flower beds were popular with romantic couples.

The gondolas were stationery on the dry pavements.

Someone wrote amazing poetry in the air with one finger, it was well worth listening to.

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