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Yesterday, I stopped to look up at an elm tree adorned with just a glint of green, tiny tiny leaves that seemed liked emeralds in an ancient setting. Somehow, as I looked I became as never before entranced with the three-dimensional aspect of what I saw, which I do not see in winter when trees are barren, or in summer when the fattened leaves nearly hide the branches. I existed then in a curious three-dimensional space under a tree of little emeralds. When I walked on, it was as if the world I entered again became flat and without magic.
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