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The rear montagnes swallow the horizon . They have the forme of a phoneme-waveform, a vowel caught in a ciel throat, a warning sigh meant to waken you to an alertness which, in the middle of your worry, will allow you to see the setting soleil colors prism'd by the mineral contour of the eroding montagne slopes, bright lumière shining here at the edge of espace and Humanity's immortal empire of breath. |
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