Pure lushness of a feathery sort. And full-on color. Verdant touches, of course. Reminds me on the inverse of a beet salad. Reminds me of the last line of a poem when it springs open with greening. Guess it's time to cook some beets; finish that poem about recipe & place.
BECAUSE WE CANNOT STOP, replies the bookeeper-- though we might regret the forward motion, there is no other way to go
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