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You can hear the buzz of bugs as they sizzle in the fire; sending embers spiralling up to the stars. They hover in a great and glowing hoard of luminescent green, flowing on the air’s currents like a thousand tiny stars.
The night is warm, and a gentle breeze rustles the canvas of the tents; swaying the surrounding trees, and carrying with it the fresh scent of wood smoke.
You can hear the waves of the lake lapping gently against the pier...
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