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.¤,§.#,,£¨ Only At Night. Long Ago, Someone Here #¨@.¤.&.&¨
£§.£.#,£&, Must'Ve Angered The Sun, And Today It #,&,#.¤¨@.
,&¨&¨¤.¨&¨ Still Burns Us Strangely. But With The ¤¨§.@,@,§¨
£§,§.§¨@&¨ Sunset The Air Comes Raining Back Down £.&¨§.£,§¨
.&.¤¨&..&¨ And Gets Thick Enough To Breathe. It ¤.#¨#.¤,#.
#§.@,&,§¤. Carries With It Smells From Far Away, ¤,&.§,§.@,
,¤.¤.¤¨,@, Colourful Sparks For The Imagination, A #.#,@¨¤,@,
¤§.@,£.@@¨ Sharp Contrast For The Stale Black Of #,@,@,&,§,
.¤,@.&¨.¤, The Night. §¨@¨§¨@,¤,
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&@,&.¤¨&§. Take Me Seriously And I Fear They @,§.&¨§.#.
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&§¨#.&¨£#. Before You Learn The Trade Enough To @,§,£,¤,¤¨
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£@,&¨#¨@@¨ Safely Forward, Every Night. ¤.¤¨§¨§,§¨
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¤#,#.£¨@§¨ However, Currently There Seems To Be £.¤.£,§¨¤.
.£.#.&,.£, Something Going On Ahead. Those Around ¤,&.¤¨¤¨§¨
#@.¤¨¤.§¤. The Corner Have Stopped, Shouting, §,§¨#.£.§¨
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.¤.&.@..¤, Book of stars, Is A Combined Map, ¤,@,@¨£¨&¨
@#.&,#,#§¨ Calendar And Timepiece As Long As You §,§.£¨&.§,
.@¨§,§¨,@¨ Know What Year It Is. Every Page Is A &,@,#,#¨#.
#&¨¤,§.£#. Grid Of Nine Starfields, Hand Drawn, ¤,¤.#¨§,#¨
¨#,#.£..#, Below Which Are Written Coordinates In #¨§¨£¨@¨£¨
@£.£,¤¨£#, Both Space And Time. A Lot Of It Is &.¤,&.§,&,
.¤.§.¤..§¨ Applicable On Earth, But Not All. It &¨£,&¨@.#,
§#.¤¨£,¤£, Hints Of Other Places - Some Stars §.§.@.#.§,
,¤.¤.&.,@¨ Reordered, Some Names I Have Never &¨§,¤.¤,§.
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,£.@¨&¨¨&. Impossible. ¤,#.£¨#¨§¨
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.¤¨&.§,¨§¨ Those Pages Are Exactly What I Scramble &,§,&.#,@,
§#,§¨¤¨§£. For Right Now. I'Ve Stopped Breathing. @,£,¤¨#.§,
,£,£,£..¤, I Sling Open The Book Of Stars A Bit £.&,£,#,¤¨
§£,¤¨§.#@, Too Quick, Spilling All My Notes On The &¨#¨§¨£.§¨
.@¨¤¨£.,¤. Ground. One Lands On My Foot, It Is A §,@¨#.£.£,
&£.#¨£.§¤¨ Drawing Of A Muscle cow, But I Could #¨£¨#¨£.#,
.#,&,£¨¨@, Care Less Right Now. §¨&¨¤.&,¤¨
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