--
It was dreary and wearisome. Cold clammy winter still held way in this
forsaken country. The only green was the scum of livid weed on the dark
greasy surfaces of the sullen waters. Dead grasses and rotting reeds loomed
up in the mists like ragged shadows of long-forgotten summers.
--"The Passage of the Marshes" http://www.ccil.org/~cowan
Received on Sat Aug 13 2005 - 08:42:49 PDT
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