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A strange town. He felt it more on his return. A secretive, important little town, clustering in the fold of the hills astride and about its many streams, almost surrounded by running water and linked to the rest of the world by fords, by bridges, and by stepping stones.
A wet October evening is depressing, but it drapes some soft shadows on the rough edges of ruin and decay. Not so the light of morning.
oppressed with the complex struggles of his own nature and with the futility of trying to explain.
