WE ARE THOSE who have been on their way for
centuries—we never had a place of our own—where are we
going? Where are we coming from? On occasion we stay
somewhere for a while, but fate quickly remembers us again
and we leave.
And only on occasion, at the time when
dusk falls and
the few violets shudder amongst the hedges, we are
overwhelmed by a strange awe, a feeling as though we are
returning to the place from which we have been forever
banished.
Or perhaps the twilight is our only home…
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