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On an ordinary street between the banal tedium of the shopping centre and the struggling miracle of the big park all I had to do was look up. A row of modest trees that only a week ago were crowned with brilliant yellow leaves are bare now. On the other side of the wide walkway that leads to my house a tree of another sort still blazes against the brilliant sky, decorated with beloved clouds. I only had to look up.

I only had to look up to escape the parking lot. The eternal sky, the vast sky is always there, always waiting to offer its distant, constant comfort.