Trafika Europe 2 - Polish Nocturne
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It shows up without an invitation; a formless, colorless

force that makes the soul tremble in delight. It tightens its

grip and imperiously leads. Sometimes it just flirts and

woos, like a teenage girl showing off a new flower in her

hair, and leaving doodles, flourishes and question marks.

Sometimes like a bolt from a dark sky it tears the sleep off

your eyelids. Sometimes a barely visible apparition, it floats

on the horizon and waves from afar. It grumbles, utters

something unintelligible, tousling the senses. It leaves

without a warning.