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The Golden Hour

She liked the golden hour. She liked the light. She liked the smell of the sage and lavender. The hills looked soft. During the year that she wrote her dissertation, she lived in the hills at what had once been a farm house long ago. No one was around for miles. She loved to take a bike ride, each day at this time, and feel day turn to dusk, and to feel part of everything around her at this moment.

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