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-66Painted On A Barn in large letters was the word PIG. I could clearly read the word from the road. There was nothing about “For sale” or “Farm.” What compulsion drove a man to label something so? Did his wife have a special embroidered apron with the word WOMAN emblazoned? (Or, during those intimate hours, did she have a girdle where her title would expand horribly large in Lycra?) Or maybe this was just a casual, derogatory remark aimed at no one in particular, maybe just at God, to express a fleeting state of mind, a heretofore repressed enmity? Or maybe it was a warning, a desperate feeble attempt to make us stay away, to keep driving, to make us think, make us tremble, to keep us away from the gnawed pen, the erupted door, the smell of musky, muddy, crushed furniture, the hoof-scratched tiles, the final red glimpse of a terrible porcine slop. ...

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