EmbassytownBook - 2011
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The sun still rose, and the shops sold things, and people went to work. It was a slow catastrophe.
it was impossible to concentrate as we approached the forest. Some of the trees moved weakly out of our way, hauled by roots, but most were too slow. I braced. The carriage’s jutting legs scythed through rope trunks. In our passing trees soared straight up, dangling their broken tethers. We left a line of them accelerating skyward as we cut into the woodland.
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