I didn'tfeel like a modern fin-de-millgnaire man on a spiritual quest to facehis fears (I'm okay, you're okay, let's al In the smel of furs and overcoats and exhausts and bundledup bodies came an unexpected scent of birchbark. I couldn't ask even though the presence I felt might be, let's faceit, only in my own head. Nothing, he replied.
It was hanging out of the bib pocketof the overalls I was wearing. The letters L. It was as if nighthad burst a blood-vessel in the sky over there. , but it somehowwasn't Jo.
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