I sat in a garden of brambles and creepers, the sky above me a luminous void. It was never really black any more. To my new eyes, even the darkest, moonless night was a dim, steel blue, and the stars blazed so intensely I could now read comfortably by their light. This was balanced, I suppose, by the day, when the sky overhead burned white hot from horizon to horizon, and direct sunlight felt like a million needles prickling my skin. I didn't burst into flame, as my kind did in Hollywood movies, but it was uncomfortable and I couldn't function without sunglasses.
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