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It is sometimes known to have silver linings.
Large as a mountain, small as a pea, Endlessly swimming in a water-less sea.
In Paris but not in France, the thinnest of its siblings.
I am the outstretched fingers that seize and hold the wind. Wisdom flows from me in other hands. Upon me are sweet dreams, my merest touch brings laughter
In many hallways you would stand, if not with this in hand.
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