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April 3, 2008
The car was paused at the curb. I remember it was dark. The signal light was on. Well it was on, and off, and on again. That was the thing you see, the thing that captured me. Because this is the essence of the cycle. It was suddenly on, astonishing even itself, brilliant, illuminating the street for fifty feet in each direction, visible easily for a quarter mile. It was hot with brilliance and flash.

It was all that, right up until it was not. It was ash. It was brown death and self-horror.

And again, it was torn awake.