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A gift in memory
And I give to you now, one morning, heavy with expectant rain that will never come, rich in silence though the sun has already laid claim to the horizon as seen through the old, skeletal forest. To the west, the haze in the air has erased the line between water and sky, and it seems as if the shore is drifting towards a great, blue-gray nothingness.

We pass by a field of trillium in bloom, unperturbed by the great drops of dew that have collected along their greenery. The birds chirp infrequently, but each song rings out as alien to a city boy's ears. The dirt roads that have long since been paved over still guide my feet. This once was a town without a name, and in the soft morning where I am all alone, it has no name again.