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Art was conscious of movement, sound, smell, low voices, an old man with feathers and laden with a heavy odor of sage, sage was a fragrance that permeated all around him, surrounding him like a warm blanket. Initially the smell bothered him, without hesitation it sharpens his senses akin to a memory of a misplaced ancient time. Along with the reverberation and scent of rain, in his minds eye, he could see each droplet of mist form into a trickle and then the rain drops would become enhanced and start to rain and sometimes turn into hail, he could heed it hitting the covering of this sacred place, his tiny paradise

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