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We all have dreams and some of us dream even when we are awake, some of us are daydream believers and inhabit another world in our mind, like that world that was described in the Middle Ages in Europe as the “Land of Cockayne”. Instead of all the sorrows, difficulties and problems of everyday life and the worries and fears, the tensions and doubts of this our everyday, this is the land where the delectable chickens fly to you, without feathers and already spiced and roasted, just where and when you want them, all ready to eat on a plate, carrying the knife and fork and the apple sauce; where the pies hang on strings for the picking, the cakes sprinkled with currants dot the firmament, where the bread is already baked, warm and waiting for you, and the inexhaustible rounds of ripe cheese form the walls of buildings, where the fruit is always ripe and always hanging on the tree, most certainly a land of promise.

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