It’s a strange feeling for me at Nant, the constant opposites of so many things. It may be, of course, that it’s just my way of seeing any place, but I knew that after the beautiful sunset had disappeared, I would have to find my way back across the rocky mountain top, pick my way really carefully through a dense and seriously dark pine wood before reaching the road. The village would be empty on my return and every window would be black, with open curtains. The warm and universal beauty of the sunset was always countered by the approach of the cold and the dark.
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