A pinwheel stuck out in the lawn. The building made of bricks. The hotel and a thousand doors. Obscure behind the most rotund dreams. Stuffing sheet music papers away in otherwise empty sock drawers. Struck wire and white keys hidden from snooping maids. One door mistakenly ajar, whispered with heart, "Adagietto! The fool!" The beginning of an explanation. But we're all so bored, and we won't share. A pinwheel stuck out in the lawn. The wind making it move.
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