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27 ThE KITE I still heard Auntie Blue after she did not want to come down again. She was skypaper, way up too high to pull down. The wind liked her a lot, and she was lots of noise and sky on the end of the string. And the string jumped hard all of a sudden, and the sky never even breathed, but was like it always was, slow and close far-away blue, like poor dead Uncle Blue. Auntie Blue was gone, and I could not think of her face. And the string fell down slowly for a long time. I was afraid to pull it down. Auntie Blue was in the sky, just like God. It was not my birthday anymore, and everybody knew, and dug a hole, and put a stone on it next to Uncle Blue’s stone, and he died before I was even born. And it was too bad it was so hard to pull her down; and flowers. ...

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