The wind carved ugly scars here & there. Then the wind fell in the abyss of silence letting the rain exorcise the scars. The pouring of torrential rain did not do so as it created pitfalls and hollow holes on the already bruised ground—multifarious geometric shapes to the delight of chaos. Then the sun shone—an oven drying the mud. What happened was a real rite of exorcism— a natural cosmetic surgery. & the molehills disappeared like flies drowning in a glass of cider vinegar.
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