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By Fraser Wilson A shower of sparks and explosive colours cascaded from the sky, flecks of firework ash and gunpowder scattering onto the hedges beneath.
It is February in Edinburgh, When the rest of the world appears. Not a pressure that occupies this city, that city, this world or that.
Ground-scuttling thought thief with sharpened eyes and smoothened beak, carries its share within its gullet the spoils of those who speak. No sound is truly