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When The Day Dawned The day was yet to dawn. From the warmth of my cosy bed, as I stepped out of the house, the entire town slept; a gigantic cocoon, in its depth, the silkiness of existence, folded in the mystique of darkness, in the aura of a wasteland from ancient times, as if the roads, fields, houses and trees cast by a magic spell; time, to its core drunk with antiquity, environs perpetuating colour. In the timelessness of eternity, in the mute fog, people in their bed-chambers crouched