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I often have a dream as if where I live now I came to be quite by chance, it is not my real home. As if my home were somewhere else, somewhere too far and at the same time too near, in the woods, on the shore of the bank, in a small village drowned in the greens, where in small beautiful huts extremely kind and beautiful people live, who need me, miss me badly and look forward to seeing me again.

It seems to me, as if I know how to get to that country. I often even stood on the way homeward. I would now lose my way, or even reach the place, look around and feel the warmth, quietness and love of my hometown.

I wake up with this feeling, and often even cry, such anguish and sadness overcomes me for me still being here and not in the Home of Heaven.

 

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