You wake up to horns. Not birds. You step out to dust. Not fresh air. You drive to work on roads that feel like battlefields. Potholes. Bumper to bumper traffic. Endless honking. You reach office tired. You come home more tired. You sleep. Repeat. This is not living. This is surviving. Somewhere between the chaos of the city and the silence of the village, there must be a middle ground. A place...
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