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"I smelled the earth, the stones, the freshly struck wood.
I built the nest walls high and twisted the soil of the nest.
From the height of the edge of the nest I looked down on the forest soil, up into the branch work of the trees and into the sky.
I heard the singing of the birds and felt the breath of the wind.
In the dawn I began to freeze.
The nest was not finished yet. I thought, high above on the edge of the nest squatting:
I build myself a house, it sinks silently past the tops of the trees on the forest soil,
openly to the cold night sky and nevertheless warmly and softly,
deeply into the dark earth dug."
http://greenmuseum.org/
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