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balanced in the wind, Baker.

through the dark shadows of the trees.

brimmed with blue and silver light.

to falling weirs of rain.

blurred and distorted by the million shining prisms of the rain.

like a heart in flames.

The wind rose from the north, like cold fire.

It clouded the sun’s reflection with a streaming haze of emerald blue.

cold amber of the afterglow casts clear black lunar shadows.

a process I have described elsewhere as the ‘bezoaric effect’

between the primary sensorial articulation of transference