carried it on her hand in the
black bandage, which she did
not take off even to sleep and
which she washed and ironed
herself. Her life was spent in
weaving her shroud. It might
have been said that she wove
during the day and unwove
during the night, and not with
any hope of defeating
solitude in that way, but,
quite the contrary, in order to
nurture it.
nextflipdebug2
(nextflipdebug2)
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