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i looked outside, through the branches of holly obscuring the view of Life,
and saw upon the rooftops across the street, not raindrops of discord,
but the sort of Sun that only appears in summer.
yet, being the last dregs of February, this was a lie;
for the cold, chilling air- were one to go outside- would vanquish the warmth
of the Sun
faster than an icecube in the desert.