There's always noise flooding in through the windows coming from the street. People passing by on their ways somewhere they have to be. Too busy to ever stop to find the beauty around them. It's a quiet kind of place though, with sunlight streaming in from every angle and the kind of walls that let a piano sing even more sweetly than clouds and angels do. It took a while to feel like home, but once you started visiting, dressed in nothing more than laughter, bearing nothing more than hope, coming almost daily the loneliness began to fade and the emptiness was filled with dreams of better days. To you and yours my door is always open.
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