It is spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black, the cobbledstreets silent and the hunched courters'-and-rabbits' wood limping invisible down to the sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, fishingboat-bobbing sea.
Beginning with doom in the bulb, the spring unravels.
To begin at the beginning: It is a spring moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black.
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