She had the hungry desire to be outside and in it, free and naked and bowed on her knees, her forehead to the earth: she had the ravenous want to open her mouth and bite the wholesome dirt, to feel the cool, damp grit and sand in her mouth and between her teeth. It was a more ancient form of prayer than she had known before. I want the dirt in my mouth, and then it will be all right, she thought. I want the dirt on my whole face, dirt in my hair, dirt against my whole body and then I’ll be safe. On the earth, with the grass and weeds lay anonymity, oneness, inviolability. Is this the last and
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