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”
“You are going to sing in London?” he said quietly. “Hey John, how’s it going?”
“Hey Michelle. "
"Hush!" replied Mrs. “Why are you so distant? Why all the mystery? What
are you, a narc? Double-oh-seven or something?”
She steeled herself, refusing to react. He sat alone in his brother’s old car
night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red
sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had
once shown him her secrets. ’
‘But Marthe, this is idiot. There’s nothing happened at all!” She didn’t mean, he
concluded, to give him any more trouble ever, and he was free to begin a fresh
chromatic novel—he had just finished the Blue Lagoon, which he thought very
beautiful and tender and absolutely irrelevant to Morningside Park—or work in
peace at his microtome without bothering about her in the least.
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This video was uploaded to desenez.net on 29-06-2024 02:22:28