Twilight over the Western Ridge, a whisp of winter shades, everything is opportunity. You build meals and visions all at once, lose track of time, empty the wine bottles, they ask when it's time for you to move back home and smile that sweet sunshine at your New York sentiments. The effect is jarring.
A full moon climbs across the zenith, lighting the snow sea and rendering the dark night harmless. I sleep, and I sleep, and I sleep, strange dreams twisting my sheets until dawn. What did you come for?
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