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The three men huddle together

in the wintry forest, without any

shoes.  One can see

past the horizon and

tells the others that

the sun will rise one day, but

there is a noise from behind them

instead and a symphony is

shouting at them, there is a

large fire, a holocaust, from the south and

the warmth is

indecipherably horrific.

A man with a lightening bolt

across his chest rides on the waves

of smoke and

tells the three strangers that

the sun won’t come today,

or even tomorrow, but that

there will be a day when comets

rain from the sky.

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