The canopy was a baby-blue canvas, as if the artist had simply been in love with the mid-August sky.
It was nature's canopy above them, grown in the springtime, strengthened in the summertime, now ready to glow every colour it ever dreamed of beneath the starry-black.
The canopy above the moonlit street was a chorus of multicoloured umbrellas, together transforming the rain into an auditory patina.
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