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3 a.m. in Big Sur. This aquatic great canyon has a raw force of the golden age. The style of a gifted kid. A loner. Set for confidential town stories and some hidden astonishing beach breaks. Stretched under the sun. No luxuries but time and water. Angels and condors wings surround it. Big Sur has a vague restlessness. A mystery. The final chapter in the dramatic turbulence of some irrecoverable youth who fear nothing. A surreal mixture of real characters equally affected by It. Alive and vibrant. Coasts and mountains constantly seeking magnificence tolerance to keep your beliefs alive that this is paradise. At night with the heart open stars rise with an infinite dimension engineering the stardom with prodigality. The hidden region is the true son of all liberties and treasures. Big Sur has just driven me again where I had never been before.

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