Imagine the world is made from all white pieces of jigsaws. Actually those pieces colored in gradation are standing without any orders; random, each one has the same face, but on standing next to other, we can’t help accept they’re different.
I walked around the countries, which once they’d adopted Socialism and have this fact as their history.
What I saw there were ordinary scenes. Naturally they enjoyed shopping like us, and anywhere of their lives I could see the used-to-see scenes. Scenery as if in Japan we can’t help feeling it’s too natural.
What is different is only faces and accents of them. The breath of their culture there. These diferences might be just felt those we can’t tell. I felt their lives were so beautiful, in which people now run with the each history and culture.

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