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I just finished reading, for the second time, The Silmarillion by Tolkien. On the same day, it was some nicely warm, but not too hot, summer weather with beautiful clouds in the sky that took the sun’s light and became a canvas for deep oranges, reds, and purples and the mountains were clearly visible; a rarity in the Inland Empire. All that during a wonderful dinner at one of my favorite places with a friend of mine who is nothing short of beautiful. I had the distinct impression that there was still a kind of magic in the world, that it hadn’t left entirely. Glory may come in the morning, but the twilight still holds sway in my heart.

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