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❝ “Like severed hands, wet leaves lie flat on the deserted avenue. Houses like skulls look through neglected windows. A woman dressed like a crumpled umbrella, her mouth opening and closing with a zipper, leaves number 53 to send a letter. Her gloved hand hesitates, then knowing there will be no response, she rips it up and throws it in the gutter. And autumn with its tail of pheasants comforts her with chrysanthemums.”
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