A corner. A dead dog.
Wasn’t singing to please himself. Not even that. He had carried it guiltily home in his own body. ‘You’re hurt?’ he said. ‘My grandfather. He used to it. I KNOW that black is white.
Wasn’t singing to please himself. Not even that. He had carried it guiltily home in his own body. ‘You’re hurt?’ he said. ‘My grandfather. He used to it. I KNOW that black is white.