In my dream it’s morning and we take our places in the dim reading room, row on row. Books and clipped articles are passed. The light is granular. We wet our fingers, scan pages, murmur. There is conflict and later, we are starved in our seats.
In my dream it’s morning and we take our places in the dim reading room, row on row. Books and clipped articles are passed. The light is granular. We wet our fingers, scan pages, murmur. There is conflict and later, we are starved in our seats.
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