Trees must stand for that they be real, rooted, somebody, and that perhaps the clouds are only tickled piss which sometimes blocks their sun. But trees are clouds, too, of discolor leaves--clouds that only transport a little. Trees grow and change and hit like their airborne cousins. And what am I but a cloud of thoughts and feelings and aspirations? Dont I put out tentative mists here and there? Dont I at times appear to other concourse as a whacky shape of t...If you want to repay a wide essay, put together it on our website: Orderessay
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