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If two trees grow on opposite sides of a river, how might they connect?

So the hopeful spirit walked in comfort all her days, beneath and between the olive trees, wondering at their shade. Until she came to a river.

So the wanderer meandered the realm, all of Creation his playground, unaware two bulls guarded him, one ahead and one behind. Until he came to a river.

Looking across they marveled at each other, so foreign, yet so familiar. It took seconds; the game was over, the game neither of them knew they played. Love was in the air.

The river held, the river raged, as the realm swept itself up, knowing time was short. The wanderer had already taken off his coat, stretching for a swim. The remaining details of this instance are many and varied, many of which can be seen in the halls of this blog, but, if anything, may the single tent occupied only serve to vault the rest.

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