Predawn sky.
Motley birds waking up building up a chorus of their own,
Few morning walkers on the road,
Few minutes left for us to grab the fresh air before the city wakes up.
The bleating of a herd of goats as they are eased down a carriage,
The eerie sound of the chopper grinding against the sharpener,
Few minutes left for the goats to breathe for the last time before the city wakes up.
The same dawn!
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