She thought of Sebastian who often returned from the charnel house that the outside world had become. My son wanted to marry a woman of thirty in a tobacconist’s shop. ‘This journey I do not like,’ she said more loudly. What else was there lurked in shadows and deep places; if in some mood of reverie it came out into the light, it was presently overwhelmed and hustled back again into hiding. Bring me clothing, I beg of you. One always dreamed of this and never believed it.
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