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Dante Dec 2016
On a cold, bitter Christmas Eve, I wandered down an unknown path and at its end sat a small, isolated tree; it's branches – leafless and frosted with ice – shimmered and twinkled in the moonlight.

From that tree fell a frozen tear that shattered into a million pieces against the snow, concurrently with the resonating ring of a bell in my ears.

As tears rolled down my cheek, I whispered,

"I am too..."
An Ode to Chopin's Prelude in E-Minor.

— The End —