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'The colour of Gods, hapiness and violence.'
The singing fish from Batticola.
In the night the fishermen heard, dark voices singing from the depth of the sea. "Hear,"the father said and the son listened to the singing fishes. An astay bulet.... Now his father was no more and he exchanged the net for a rifle. Landed in hell and feld. His eras, forever hearing the sound of the war, dull.... The fish are dumb.