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... that the view from the roof garden was not cut into by higher edifices still, but the spread offered to Song’s eyes was still a striking sight. The gas lamps of the capital lit up the dark like a thousand fireflies, their burning glow reflected on green glass and brass, and above it all towered the Collegium. That grand structure’s bones of brass were hard to make out from a distance, weaving the illusion that its massive transparent glass panes were instead made of pure light.

And atop ...

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