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that month was all frosty morning walks, the anticipation of things yet to come, and the scent of incense, rising through the air in mysterious, momentary patterns. i explored labyrinthine abbeys, climbing hundreds of crooked, centuries-old and well-worn steps, and was for my effort rewarded with a rooftop garden sanctuary in which i could catch my breath. that place was like something out of a dream, an ancient courtyard walled with granite archways and stained glass windows, quietly alive even in the heart of winter, with delicate grasses and wildflowers.

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