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88 Chapter Seven The grass grows long, goes to seed. Wildflowers sprawl. Trees fall. Rot. Saplings jostle across the grass-strewn hills. Moss uncurls. The world shifts and sighs, a restless sleeper tossing. And you, you flicker of bird’s wing, you flutter of eyelashes: how much can you pour into your second? How will we remember you when you’re gone? ...

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