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NORTH OF THE ABYSS By Brian Aldiss I am not yet born; provide me with water to dandle me, grass to grow for me, trees to talk to me, sky to sing to me, birds and a white light in the back of my mind to guide me. Louis MacNeice: ‘Prayer Before Birth’ The west bank of the river, so the old legends had it, was the bank of death. There the dead went to their tombs, among the sands and the sunsets. However that might have been, a barque emerged from the mists veiling the west bank and moved towards mid-channel with steady purpose. It was high in prow and stern. In the stern, a dark figure guided the boat by means of a large steering oar. The figure was alone in the boat. At its feet stood pottery coffers of curious design, their lids taking the form of heads of owl, |
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