And the reason I am writing this on the back of a manila envelope now that they have left the train together is to tell you that when she turned to lift the large, delicate cello onto the overhead rack, I saw him looking up at her and what she was doing the way the eyes of saints are painted when they are looking up at God when he is doing something remarkable, something that identifies him as God.
life is a loaded gun that looks right at you with a yellow eye.
This love for everyday things, part natural from the wide eye of Infancy, part a literary calculation
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