Winter morning, the smell of a new day. I stroll along the path between sleeping and waking, I don't want to let go of my dream yet. A cold breeze through my hair, the sunlight touches my face...
Winter morning, the smell of a new day. I stroll along the path between sleeping and waking, I don't want to let go of my dream yet. A cold breeze through my hair, the sunlight touches my face...
Duendes crossing my path on a sunny morning...
In some Latin American cultures, the Duendes are believed to be forest spirits, helpers of people who get lost in the forest so they could find their way home.
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