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Night falls. The daisies along the side of John's main residence are revealing the
whiteness of their petals. At dawn, the red rose, planted the day before, shines brightly. Hope
is reborn. Jane had dreamt that love had been written. But a power cut wipes out the holograms
broadcast across the meadow. John invites himself to write his address on a sign near the...
Night falls. The daisies along the side of John's main residence are revealing the
whiteness of their petals. At dawn, the red rose, planted the day before, shines brightly. Hope
is reborn. Jane had dreamt that love had been written. But a power cut wipes out the holograms
broadcast across the meadow. John invites himself to write his address on a sign near the
terminals. And an odometer to help you find your way around the major conurbations. Planting
trees near the clearing is enough, he thinks. His work is sublime and elegant. They don't talk
about it because they always want more. The landscape is full of colour. John teleworks. He
sets himself apart by doing his best to get things done. Doing his best to go further...