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The damp chill of dawn still clung to

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the soil as Tarik stepped out onto the

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porch, breathing in the rich, earthy scent of

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wet leaves and morning mist.

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Before him, the landscape unfolded like a breathing

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green ocean.

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Roe upon immaculate row of tea plants swept

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across the rolling hills, tracing the contours of

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the earth in rhythmic, emerald waves.

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He walked down into the plantation, his rubber

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boots crunching softly on the dew -soaked path.

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The distant mountains were draped in a thick,

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silver veil, their jagged peaks slowly dissolving into

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the pale amber glow of the rising sun.

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Around him, the detailed foliage of the tea

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bushes shivered slightly as a gentle breeze whispered

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through the valleys, waking the hillside from its

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quiet slumber.

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Tarik paused beside a particularly lush bush, his

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fingers brushing against the tender, jade -colored leaves

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still heavy with morning dew.

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This was the most tranquil hour of the

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day, a fragile window of absolute peace before

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the rhythm of harvest began.

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Plucking a single leaf, he held it to

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his palm, smiling as the first true ray

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of sunlight cut through the mist and bathed

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the quiet hills in warmth.