He's neighbourly; he has a jingle for every ache and joy I've had. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. Probably she was married years ago and is now merely on the way to her husband's house. She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent. And, for one expedition at least, we will go up this desolate valley here to Mattmark, and so on to Monte Moro.
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