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He turned off the light. His wife was breathing slowly. At her bedside, he spoke of her friends the roses, of the pretty carnation brooch he had pinned to her silk scarf, of the alluring hat which fitted her so well. Small souvenirs, simple and vivid, the heavy night…
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to just get up in the morning and be awake again to the same facts. I don't need someone like you telling me to shift my attention at will to pleasant meadows and walk away from the terrible park as a spirit. Time is all in the snow and so…
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