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The party’s over, the bar has been shattered by a whisky-induced craze, yet the piano still makes the morning sound like there’s a hope. The sunset and the sunrise are always so similar in that new and unknown zone of your life. The last drunken lady stares at the counter with a look of disbelief. The piano still plays for her. And for you too, if you’re smart enough to grab the right notes when you shyly pass the corridor.