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Home Page The moon rising above a nearby factory looms large. It's just past full and starting to loose its right-hand margin. Winter QuartersI climb into the attic to bring down an old bread-maker, repaired by my brother-in-law, which we're now passing on to our niece to try out. The box has been adopted as winter quarters; as I open it a small moth flies out, then a spider scurries out and finally we have to evict an unidentified insect from its snug home in the folds of the insulated wrapping.
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