Their laughter was like the stridulation of the ghosts of grasshoppers.
and the wind gathered the leaves as a mother gathers her children and blew them irrevocably, lovingly, into the haunted wildness
The Moth's Song: And Other Stories
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and the wind gathered the leaves as a mother gathers her children and blew them irrevocably, lovingly, into the haunted wildness
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So, I poisoned his coffee this morning and watched him drink it.
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There is no light at the end of the tunnel for us. We are who we are.