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‘you must find a tape. We cannot support you indefinitely'.

+..Alt +..psychedelic rock +..stoner rock Fifteen by Camille Baziadoly & The Filthy Honey + Dances / Curses by Hey Colossus + Drool by Part Chimp Shepley nodded, watching his reflection in the gold finger-bowl. Traxel sat at the head of the tilting table, his high-collared velvet jacket unbuttoned. Surrounded by the battered gold plate filched from the tombs, red wine spilling across the table from Bridges’ tankard, he looked more like a Renaissance princeling than a cashiered PhD. Once Traxel had been a Professor of Semantics, and Shepley wondered what scandal had brought him to Vergil. Now, like a grave-rat, he hunted the time-tombs with Bridges, selling the tapes to the Psycho-History Museums at a dollar a foot. Shepley found it impossible to come to terms with the tall, aloof man. By contrast Bridges, who was just a thug, had a streak of blunt good humour that made him tolerable, but with Traxel he could never relax. Perhaps his coldly abrupt manner represented ...

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Distance moves through the dim lines of the inland elms

blue over the green smoothness of the river.

to walk within a hoop of red-hot iron

tangling with the air.

Where the sun shone, there were blue shadows fumed with a humming warmth of insects.

Everywhere there was the ripple and bubble of the lost rain seeking its stillness in the slow river water.

Rain fell till two o’clock, followed by showers and mist and watery sunlight.

like fingers lightly touching a hot iron.

Beauty is vapour from the pit of death.

These vivid images shrink into a rainbow of crushed colour, and set below the horizon of memory.