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scrying scraps

… grass & gloaming sky like blue green grey sea … … sometimes she walked or floated along the red or grey brick traces, ever so slowly, & sometimes above the grass, slowly, & sometimes along the wooden barrier, ever so slowly, ever deeply loved, though...

… hidden & lost their history, gloaming tracers like the grey man quietly sitting on the park bench are like the breeze brushing the greensward or the wind on the buffalo grass: no more than fleeting dreams, fragile sightings flying like a flight of the...

She had sisters, they said. Once, in a fall evening,she seemed to see something into a dazzling disk,half-buried among fallen leaves & wet grass,mirroring ye pale white light of ye street lamps—& time melted away .Or so it is told . Once she was seen...

She was seen as she walked slowly along the red or grey brick traces. Once she was seen to go around the barrier, on the wooden planks of the bridge, with no sound & no weight, in no hurry, though swift as flashing shades. She stared silently faraway...

Et lors vit entor lui si grant plenté d’oisiaus que tous li airs entor lui en fu couverrs, et estoient plus noir que onques rien qu’eust veue. Robert de Boron, Perceval Very heavy rain began to fall before she was seen at dusk above ye crossway or near...

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