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ArtistA house could be seen in a thicket of trees. A house outside the village, isolated, surrounded by a large expanse of land as smooth as the palm of your hand. In front was a garden full of tulips, and rose bushes with the last roses of the month of June. The trees were lime trees. Ran de reixa, spilling out onto the road, was a wall of sedges with pink and red flowers. There was a thick, stagnant perfume, as if it did not move from the garden fence, of lollipop and troana