"They sat on the boarding house porch and saw the sun plunge into the same crack in the earth from which the night emerged.
The sun, the hero of every day, the impersonal old man that beams as brightly on death as on birth, came up every morning and raced across the blue dome and dipped into the sea of fire every evening.
Photo by Ákos Szabó
Photo by Ian Turnell
The sun, the hero of every day, the impersonal old man that beams as brightly on death as on birth, ...
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