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Kindle Notes & Highlights
She smells sharp and warm and welcoming, like a used bookstore.
Music is just the sound of time blowing across the lip of their nothingness.
They sit in ugly silence, letting the sunlight through the dusty, spore-spackled windows say the things they cannot.
Orpheus strips Eurydice of Eurydice and transforms her into a song so perfect death gives up and life buries him in laurels.
