Monica

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Above, the stars were unwinking, also constant. Suns and worlds by the million. Dizzying constellations, cold fire in every primary hue. As he watched, the sky washed from violet to ebony. A meteor etched a brief, spectacular arc below Old Mother and winked out.
Monica
What I wouldn’t give to see this! It sounds beautiful.
The Gunslinger (The Dark Tower, #1)
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