Anna, you shall not go. Capes went first, finding footholds and, where the drops in the strataedges came like long, awkward steps, placing Ann Veronica’s feet. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. We pretend we never think of everything that makes us what we are. The stags and oxen and things all have to fight for us, everywhere.
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