"I ski every three years or so. I don't have the ingrained confidence that others do, but I'll happily toddle about a green or blue run."

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At first she dreamed of sheep, of going to school, of cats drinking milk. Little by little she dreamed of blue sheep, of going to school in the middle of the woods, of cats drinking milk from golden saucers. And her dreams became increasingly dense and acquired colours that were difficult to dilute into words.

— Clarice Lispector