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Sometimes thoughts don't ask. They come like wind that rises from nothing, and one finds oneself in the middle of their stream. She closed her eyes, not to escape, but not to get lost. Her hair lifted like branches of a tree trying to maintain balance in a storm. And among them glittered golden leaves, memories, ideas, worries, dreams. Each leaf was different. Some heavy, some light. Some returned, others disappeared in the distance. And yet there was no fear in her expression. Only deep concentration. As if she knew that the whirlwind of though