"Sometimes we see a cloud that's dragonish,
A vapour sometimes like a bear or lion,
A towered citadel, a pendant rock,
A forked mountain, or blue promontory,
With trees upon't that nod unto the world,And mock our eyes with air.."
I went to confront noisy neighbours, only to find the windows dark, stuck with two notes. The ghost, too, had "gone fishing". Something still whistled. — Liminality
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