Men sat there gaping, gasping at his strange, unearthly sheen,
as if a ghost were passing,
for every inch was green.
I know I can't be the only one geekin' out over this.
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Life is not a series of gig lamps symmetrically arranged; life is a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end. -Virginia Woolf, Modern Fiction
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