A young man, who had been spending the last hour walking up and down on the opposite side of the way, came quickly over to her. ‘Ain’t my place, I know that. 73 < 10 > AT HOME, 1982 Lucy woke up the next morning with Shari’s slow sonorous breathing only a few feet away. She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards. Evidently he was gazing at the dull red roofs of the city: but was he registering what he saw? Never glance sideways at man, the old Kanaka woman had said. In all this world there was no sacred ground that said to her: Return! She was of all human beings the most lonely. ‘You, soldiers,’ she yelled. So the talk went on.
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