He hated horizons. At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour. What you would look upon as immorality is here merely an established custom, three thousand years older than Christianity, accepted with no more ado than that which would accompany you should you become a clerk in a shop. She could smell the sweet girl child he had buried in the garage in autumn, 1 even under the frozen ground. Nothing to check their proceedings but a declining habit of telling the truth and the limitations of their imaginations.
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