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Dancing #8

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I remember I happened upon an old cart track dividing the trees. Here, the forest gave way to narrow grassy verges that edged a rock-strewn, rutted track on both sides.
I stood awhile considering which direction to go: by my compass the track went northeast or southwest. I'd been heading east throughout, so rather than risk doubling back in my adventure, I chose northeast: quarto di Tramontana verso Greco, Levante my boy, as my old housemaster at Eton would have said.
The warm smells of the schoolroom came back to me, unexpectedly filling me with nostalgia... happier times indeed!

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