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At the beginning of that neighborhood and on top of an old oak tree, the birds wake up in the morning to play their quiet music, heralding the start of a new day full of activity and vitality, accompanied by the children’s voice that pulsates with innocence stemming from the sincerity of their intentions, and the sincerity of their simple words that you almost understand from the first time, as a letter or two may fall out of them. In some of them, a letter may sit in the place of the other, for every place that accompanies them beats as white as the whites of their hearts.
