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"[...]
An overdose of silence, lividly obscure. In its own
way following closely between the rapid, occasional
rumbling of the wagons, a truck roars by -
ridiculous, mechanical echo of what goes by, real in
the near distance of the skies.
Again,
without warning, magnetic light gushes forth,
winking. The heart beats a short gulp. A bell jar
overhead breaks into huge splinters of the dome. A
new cloth of bad rain strikes the sound of the
ground.
[The boss
Vasques'] lived face is falsely green and shaken. I
observe him there in the dificulty of breathing,
with fraternal feeling, knowing I shall also be like
that." [...]
in
«PROSE
OF BERNARDO SOARES» by Bernardo Soares
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