Typically at the stroke of New Year I’m either asleep or inspecting the liquor cabinet, but this time, I happened to be stationed with a good view of the Space Needle’s fireworks show. I thought that was something until the next morning, when Nature showed us that we are poor imitators. 

And now, let’s reverse the frame to the preceding evening. In the moments before 12 o’ clock, nothing much is on view.

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But that will soon change:

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