It is only the dead who do not return, and after two hundred and ninety years I think perhaps I cannot die. Salazar found me while I was drinking in a pub in Dublin and recalled me to his lighthouse in Cowell. He will have a photo to prove it, but I am so rusty at the controls I was unable to take a picture before we parted. We may live without poetry, music or art, but I would not live without friends. How lovely to see him and hear news of Osprey and Enjah and HBA. I shall be looking for you all!
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