Huginn: There is no contrast between black and black. Our boy looks to the future and sees nothing, for all things fail.

Muninn: In the beginning all was black and black, and then suddenly, not so.

H: What has that got to do with it? Time's arrow is thought's guide. Forward only, we go.

M: Black is hard as jet, as obsidian, as anthracite. Black is soft as night, as fur, as coffee.

H: Bah. Black is ravens. Our shadows are the same.

M: And yet, I am your shadow, and you are mine.

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