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“God listens to everyone,” the priest answered kindly. “Impossible,” said Ida, “there’d be such a racket he wouldn’t understand a thing.”
I told her that if she didn’t swear I couldn’t talk. Screw you then, she muttered, the nasty things you don’t say to anyone become dogs that eat your head at night while you’re sleeping.
Lies, lies, adults forbid them and yet they tell so many.
he poured out a river of words, dumped them on me.
