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58 The Interstellar Tourist Shows His Slides There is, on Earth, a most amazing thing— but how to say it? Like planets anywhere, her axis tilts, so there are seasons there: They call them summer, winter, fall, and spring. It doesn’t sound like much, and yet they sing and sing those changes, and they offer prayer as dying blooms and grasses offer rare perfume—not in the thought that it might bring rejuvenation, but as the purest praise. The aspens on their pristine mountains blaze a yellow we have yet to master, and then snow collects at altitude, as if to show the loveliness of silence. From which begin toads, jonquils, jays, and creeks. And then, and then— ...

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