It was evening. The sun was low on the horizon, the sky tinged with gold and pink. Suddenly my eyes caught a movement in the skies. There were a few swallows swooping around, gliding, darting, playing. A few more joined them, and a few more, till they all painted the skies in silent symphony of a thousand choreographed songs - broad brush strokes of tiny dancing dots. I stood and danced to this chorus.
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