The world is old enough and young enough to realize the nature of organic forces. Minutes pass by in one form of enchantment and not the other. In this inevitable space I have never with the same eyes seen, I find myself vacillating between a sudden impulse to flee and fitful confusion. Both feelings that arise from the edge of a black sea, a suggestion from the same sea of coming power even in this region of storms.The rising moon, a blood red circle, emerging with incredible swiftness.
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