Block · one region of the page, as the scanner read it. It may hold a whole story, part of one, several, or an advertisement; stitching blocks into articles is the next step. Text is supplied OCR.
Page 13 · column 3 of 3 · from the scan, no model involved
ISfigM An afternoon of mist, that 's nearly kissed the son but not. I fear., settles in the hedgerow's shadows thwk.. and snuggles and obscures the thistle sticks., hastening to glisten upon the trees, before slowly sinking to their knees., to disappear All hints of stars or red of Mars reduced to white, the mists enclose. The world retreats and leaves our single hearts to beat, befuddled compass and seaman's charts go incomplete.. Encroaches upon the faint of heart ■ entreats the loneliness of fog “depart’■— Heaven only knows. Is it true when as a child. I asked., about the mist that settled in and slowly grasped the night.. “What is this whiteness of the air?" to which they answered.. “ don 't despair, 'tis only a cloud that's fallen down to earth to sleep." Cynthia Stamps Woodville
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