If I lived a thousand of lives, one of them I would like to live in Amsterdam – the city of bicycles and fish, apple tarts, beer, yummy food and gorgeous people. I would rise with the sun, get a coffee in a street cafe and ride my bike along the boulevards under the curly linden, beside the charming houses and sleepy channels. I would smile at happy people rwith the muscly legs riding alongside with me, at fit retirees and spurting kids, the whole families carrying their babies in the bikes' baskets, tinkling on the pavement, and ringing their bells. In the evening I would watch football in the local pub and on the weekend we'd go (as I would live there with the family) to the countryside - toward the smell of cows, silly sheep lazily chewing grass, to the blue sea reachable in just half–an–hour. We would be eating succulent white fish toasted in the oven until it's covered with a crispy crust, green salad, so huge that it would be good for the whole family, with tiny pink Dutch shrimps and endless stripe of juicy salmon.
Perhaps, I would be happy listening to the tranquil mornings of the city, waking up to the chirrup of birds, hubbub of children and distant bells of the trams under the high and clear blue skies.
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