Sebastianus began performing Marina’s last rites. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. Joan told me it was hung somewhere in the house, only I couldn’t remember where after all this time. " "Perhaps I read of it somewhere. There was nothing of the phenomenon in this. I keep on thinking of little details and aspects of your voice, your eyes, the way you walk, the way your hair goes back from the side of your forehead.
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