It was late morning. The sun appeared nowhere in the thickly clouded sky. I woke up early and spent the whole morning editing a series of short films on wild roses in the deep valley by an NGO. After long hours of cutting and smudging I went out with a cup of coffee, leaned my back on the little Santa hut I ran my eye over the running water of the night rain in the yard along the garden bordered with red lillies. A mooing I heard from the backyard and the muddy water splashing out there. Tobby appeared from the green grassy lawn rushed towards the hay sack. I could not make the picture clear. He was dashing in the air and two calves were chasing him. He slipped on the ground but managed to stand up on the hind legs and resumed the course. The calves sneezed.
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