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The city awakens with a light that shouldn't exist.It's not dawn, it's not a reflection,it's a green-orange radiance that trickles down the facadesas if someone had opened a fissure in the sky. Paul walks down the streetwith the feeling that...

Post-depression mornings are often so torrid.Many indeed are quite nasty and horrid.You struggle some mornings to get out of bed,So you lie there and suffer and wish you were dead.But somewhere inside does a neurone ignite:"Get up, you idiot,...