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As I am listening to Ludovico Einaudi my body starts to sway, as I leave it. I see myself as a seagull. I feel the wind in my wings, pushing my body up into the sky. I am flying over Irish cliffs. It is raining slightly and the sky is not clear, but clear enough for me to see the green cliffs and the strong waves crashing against the rocks below me. I feel the cold northern wind, it is a sharp one. Very fast and cutting. I let it transport me over the cliffs and let my body drop, moving closer to the waves below. I see a lot of foam from the waves below, the sea looks white and a grey blue colour. The cliffs are a bright green, indicating that it rains a lot here. I am flying alone and I can see my face with a yellow beak. I hear my call, as I speak out.

I realise this is why I feel melancholic when I hear a seagulls call.

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