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On bright days, I can see people stroll, smell the waft of rubbish smoke and hear the drone of distant traffic.

Every now and then, birds leave the sky and walk in the lane. Most times in pairs, sometimes alone.

The cars stroll past, few sneak, one or two may stomp their way past. It’s usually the regulars that come and go.

Just before the sun covers its face, children ride bicycles, a man juggles a football and the wind rushes home.

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