May 2, 2019

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Festooned

There is a between place. The trees know it. It happens at dusk at that perfect moment between light and dark, when the air is festooned with shadows and the atmosphere is heavy with possibility. Here things are in balance, the world is a slate, without even the slightest tracings of the scarred markings you used to believe dictated the way of things.

John Mantooth

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