“Fagiolo, find it!” calls Giovanni. And Fagiolo has forgotten what it is precisely that he is supposed to find, but no matter, he is racing into the woods again. This moment is the best moment of his life, only to be topped by the next moment and the next. Giovanni is here, Aria is here, and they are in the woods with all these wonderful smells that are so much more than smells—they are emotions, stories, songs, secrets, riddles, thick and rotten gamey smears to roll in. Here is the slime of a carcass to roll in, and how he wriggles until he is wearing the remains of the rabbit, and how
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