Linda’s eyes fluttered open； she saw him， knew him–“John！”–but situated the real face， the real and violent hands， in an imaginary world–among the inward and private equivalents of patchouli and the S...
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Linda’s eyes fluttered open； she saw him， knew him–“John！”–but situated the real face， the real and violent hands， in an imaginary world–among the inward and private equivalents of patchouli and the S...