Okay, so it was the sun that was eclipsed in Tintin's "Prisoners Of the Sun" (what was Tintin's first name, anyway?) but I stand here on my balcony at fifteen below and witness the magical spectacle of the moon turning orange . . . then brown . . . and then (almost) winking out altogether.
Fear not, Prisoners of the Inca! A scrap of newspaper will rescue you.
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