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I was painting one day by an old water
mill, many years ago in the Himalayan Mountains. While I worked an
old school teacher approached me and talked enthusiastically about
books of poetry and literature. It turned out that he was a fan of
Shakespeare and when I asked him if he had ever been at Stratford
Upon Avon, he replied wistfully that he was able to travel only in
his dreams. I have often thought that the Stratford he traveled to
in his mind was in some ways more real than the actual place. Such
is the power of imagination; let it flight!.
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