Excerpt:
Is not the present after all the prisoner of a past that obstinately
survives...? (Fernand Braudel)
She knew there were some days when she just hated everybody, it was
probably chemical, and this was one of those days. She certainly hated
every living bird. She threw open the kitchen door, stomped out in her
black boots, walked over to the tractor, started it up, drove into the
cornfield.
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