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— The hills looked like the belly of a fat man;
The trees,               like                                 frills     , stayed inviolable on their tables.

The farm,                    like a creased dough                           , turned
unbelievable brown  
    
                       from the heat.

O

didn't sweat,
   
           O     

                    loneliness.

Times In NeverleaWhere stories live. Discover now