The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. " "And you whipped the beast? I passed him. She could feel her body rebel against her actions, convulsing, so she forced herself to think of her mother in Heaven, her mother's beautiful face, the sun dancing across the rivers of her home. “Odd!” he remarked, rather surprisingly, after a little interval. More often then not he refused to reveal specifics of his own past in Greece and Rome, choosing to relate fables and stories of an impersonal nature.
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