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Movers | ||
| Packers are busily doing their task. "Where is it going?" is all that they ask. Rolling and stuffing each thing in a box, Careful with glassware, the china and clocks. What do they think as they close up each case? Maybe a dream brings a smile to their face. They just imagine that they're going, too, Over the ocean and into the blue. All of us wander sometimes in our mind. We can discover Nirvana, a find. | ||
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