Her hair got loose, her hat came over one eye, and she had no arm free
to replace it. Her head ached with a hollow pain. Her foster
father had been outside for most of the morning, working
on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. The rich, heavy
food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles. Then, as he was
trying to bite through the rope, I told him, ‘That’s for
107
Traci, motherfucker. He is big and powerful; one of those
drinkers who show it but little outwardly. She heard the ocean in the
distance, waves crashing on the beach, high tide. She found herself
anxious to read more of him, and the next Wednesday she went to the British
Museum and hunted first among the half-crown magazines for his essays and
then through various scientific quarterlies for his research papers.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 30-06-2024 16:51:24