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Out-of-the-Way Places after Guillevic Sometimes we would come to out-of-the-way inns at the ends of roads perhaps, abandoned roads. There might be a footpath there, crowded by rustling milkweed; above, an elm stood swaying, or an old oak might cast a random acorn. Inside, September’s dusty sunlight brimmed in enormous mirrors; fans revolved above us, slowly, soundlessly, as if unwilling to wake the elderly giantess who dozed at the counter, or her familiar cat. There was nothing for us to learn here, nothing. And still we felt an impending presence, a soft and impotent questioning, a breath— And when we left these out-of-the-way places, you and I, were we the same two people who had come in? 34 You are reading copyrighted material published by Ohio University Press/Swallow Press. Unauthorized posting, copying, or distributing of this work except as permitted under U.S. copyright law is illegal and injures the author and publisher. ...

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