“I saw an ice machine at the bazaar the other day,” she said. Laina didn’t look up from the scarf she was knitting, afraid to raise her eyes with so many visions crowding the air. “It once cooled the glasses of the Bee Gees, or so said the freezer merchant. Never turn your back to him, Laina. There is no bee.” “You can tell by the way I use my walk, I’m a woman’s man,” Laina said, without lifting her eyes from the needle tips. “You know that song?” “Of course. People used to recite it in the war. I didn’t know it was a song. For the longest time I thought it was from the Qur’an.” Sonja smiled,
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