Trees on a Hillside

The train lurched out of the tunnel and into the open air. The rich, lime-green of summer rice-fields carpeted the valley that spread suddenly before him in the slanting rays of the setting sun-the light-itself a visible thing: part of the scenery, more than illumination. To the right, a dark green patch of woodland strode up the hillside, the trees like soldiers, rank on rank–tall, straight, and noble–but bearing no weapons and marching out of step. Another tunnel swallowed them, and the scene was lost in darkness.

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