The green leaves were dripping with the wet rain.
The golden sand seemed to go on forever, miles and miles of
hot warm grains stretching even further than the eye can see.
The sky is a deep blue, and twinkling with the dazzling glow
of the moons.
They are directly next to each other and both full, one of
them appears to have a smiley faced almost carved into it, and the other has a
frown, and a tear dribbling down, dripping into the sky and down to the ground.
The dog pads along, its paws thudding on the soft grass, the
hot sun beats down on it and a sheen of swear forms on its furry back.
The sound of the butter elves can be heard from a thousand
miles away, loud and piercing, they are crying, desperate for a response. But
the dog is blissfully unaware.
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