A willow walk in Pimlico. Gray ale house dawn, bending for that last nibble of grass. Seabicuit, the Preakness, Baltimore of old. Checkered pants and jockey's cap...standing by the machine. Ancient mores, carried across the sea--creaky wooden, staves carved in oak, rolling through the storm... But today--all fog and mist, canal banks lost in gray. Church bells tolling, bells, for whom, tolling, bells...
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