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40 She Turned Away She turned away, but it’s Christmas Eve, the bleakest ever though the rains come down and I am, after all, the local clown; so let’s not spoil the party, let’s not grieve, let’s drink a toast and then another. She turned away, but hell, it’s raining, pouring, the old man is boring; and children sing: ‘stille Nacht, heilige Nacht’. Memory tricks my eyes into starting heavy tears but I swallow them as a bitter pill, with beer, pull a smile, hold hands for grace while a pot-bellied St Nicholas leers at the sweets on the Christmas tree. All’s still. Now she carries the sunlight on her face. stille Nacht, heilige Nacht - silent night, holy night ...

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