There's something creepy about this time of year, close to the Solstice with the world on the brink and the temperature dropping. The moon watches us still, bloated and uncaring. An eerie, knowing glow in the sky, jealous of earth and colder than Hell. Black and white luminous magic reigns over us. I may have listened to too much Fleetwood Mac earlier in my life. I'd like to write more but there's a cat lying on my keyboard.
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