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You wake up. It’s bright. The first thing you see are the softly swaying branches in your window, letting in a serpentine pattern of sun rays. And now there is the smell – a pine forest, and a pine house – fresh, comforting.

The house is silent, as if empty. M’s sleeping face is turned to you as you try to get out from under the sheets without waking her. It’s cold without the layers of wool blankets, and you hurriedly pull on jeans and a sweater.

Nobody is awake yet. You quietly step out into the living room and breathe in the air. Behind the huge glass walls is the forest, the mountains and the sky, the spirits of this place.

The house is far away from the city. It is huge, yet one cannot find it without knowing the way, even when retracing one’s steps.

Here they have a piano and a fireplace. The powerful computers are kept in the basement, and the mirrors are dusty. Music is always playing, and sometimes, a deer comes to the porch.

Out on the terrace, you already have a favorite place to watch the mountains from, and that’s where you’ll wait for the others to wake up and come.

Tomorrow, you will leave this house for the last time. Through the years, it will fade in your memory, and so will the tranquility you felt here. But you will never forget the fragrance of this place. Someday, someone will give you a single pine branch from this forest. It will make you smile, but you will not remember why.

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