Gallifrey, beautiful gallifrey. The second sun would rise in the south casting amber light on all beneath it, lighting the huge mountain ranges and making them shine. The leaves on the trees were silver, and in the morning they would look like a forest on fire. When night came the copper moon would rise high into the sky, the stars shining, brilliant, perfect pinpricks of white light. The supernova gallifreya to north lighting the way for all.
How could a place so beautiful, have been so cruel?