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Arles, 1888

Paul Gaugin: The light here rocks. Doesn’t the light here rock? Have you ever seen light like that?
Vincent van Gogh: Lalalala.

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One evening he realized he was a ghost

    It was twilight and it was raining lightly. Cloud cover was thick and black but thinned towards the western horizon. It is essential to the story that you envision the light conditions this produces:

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I have an enemy. No, I have two enemies.

She stopped in front of the crafts shop, examining something in a display basket out in front of the store. I wondered if she planned to swipe it. I walked around her.

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No skid

Traffic was light on the freeway this morning. In the field the last mist was burning off and there were about eight deer grazing. Traffic was light and then it bunched up and we all had to slam on our brakes and pray no one piled into us. I have some antiskid system on my car, and it stopped well with no screeching tires, but it still took me five kilometers to get most of the other people’s burnt rubber smell out of my cab. I call where I sit in the Dobl