Today I saw 周純 walking down 市民大道 in a little black bowler. She was talking to herself, or maybe singing, I'm not sure. A huge bank of black clouds loomed just behind her as she walked--it was going to smack us good with sooty, End-of-the-World rain, which is what it does, and will do. But 周純 seemed to pay no mind to this. She was babbling or singing, I'm not sure, and she stayed just ahead of the clouds, the little black bowler precarious on her candy red hair.
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