Into the North Window of my chamber glows the Pole Star with uncanny light. All through the long hellish hours of blackness it shines there. And in the autumn of the year, when the winds from the north curse and whine, and the red-leaved trees of the swamp mutter things to one another in the small hours of the morning under the horned waning moon,
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I have added you to my friends list. I enjoy reading your works. You are very interesting, and very old, I suspect. For some reason I thought you had died allready but I suppose your depressing life goes on.
Best reguards.
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