New book, first paragraph...


The first of them came on a Tuesday, just before sunset, when the quinacridone sunlight was dripping away to the orange glow of streetlamps, their awkward caws echoed in between the walls of the skinny alley like the far off tune of an amateur jazz musician.  In small groups, as neon Vs against the pastel sky, the flamingoes were finally returning to Cagliari. 

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