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In days of old,

there lived a man,

and in a fleeting dream,

he dreamed he was a butterfly,

with pale wings white and clean.

He flew around,

for days or years,

among the hills and trees,

without a single care in the world,

he was guided by the breeze,

but then,

in a flash,

under the wheel the butterfly died,

and he awoke,

and then he thought,

"am I a butterfly dreaming of a man?"

"or a man, a butterfly?"