No matter how many books one read, each was different, as each human being was different. “I wish this hadn’t turned up to-day of all days. Day by day she followed the spiritual and physical contest between this man and woman. Dim possibilities that she would not seem to look at even to herself gesticulated in the twilight background of her mind. Lucy loved orchestras, the bittersweet tinge of rosin dust that hung in the air, the way that the sun shone through filthy windows illuminating the marimbas with a storybook light. I don’t think any surroundings could throw a shadow on you. “Get me someone, Oracle.
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