standing, watching, in fully hopeless expectation alone beside the darkening, silent, western path along the Ilm, not far north of the Nature Bridge...
realizing that it is the sun's light reflected, twice, from the moving surface of the slowly flowing Ilm...
and the moon merely reflecting the distant sun's light on to the gravel path, and on and into the nearby woods...
in the twilight of the delightful, cool, July evening..."Goethe's Garden House", distant, gray, intrigued...
the too blatant world romanticized by the dark and shadows
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