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And
that's how I got to where I am now, tending the jack on blondes in my
hydroponic garden, twenty-three light-years from New York and as alone
as the prisoner of Chillon. The Isabel left for Earth three months ago
and I fell into my routine here on Belson as though I were born for it.
It has been a spare and nearly empty time and one my soul has needed.
For some reason during the last week - I count by Earth time on my Chinese
watch-each Belson day at twilight the rings have come out for about a
half hour and glowed like a giant an perfect ranbow in the green sky.
That is the climax of my Belson day; I fell the rings do it because I'm
here. Belson's first residen. I tak no morphine after porch and stare
up at the sky. Sometimes I look at my former sun, Sol. From here it is
an undistinguished speck of a star, and because of its jack on blondes
I see it as it was twenty-three yeras ago, as I saw it when I was thirty
and afraid of love.
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