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The Gardens of Marguerite The Gardens of Marguerite by J.R. Tompkins
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“There was something magical in his completely uninhibited amusement, something right in his utter abandon. It was a glow within him, as if he were translucent, at play with light itself. She somehow felt a peace with the world she had been missing before. She wondered if this was a glow Savio saw in his daughters. Antoníto stopped to look for her and sent up a big wave. This is joy, she thought.”
J.R. Tompkins, The Gardens of Marguerite
“Great flocks of raindrops swelled and folded, and fell upon her like insects to a feast. She hadn’t thought to bring a raincoat; she was not well-prepared, and she hated that. Her mind seemed as stirred, dark and brooding, as the coffee-colored clouds.”
J.R. Tompkins, The Gardens of Marguerite
“Antoníto clucked and clicked his arms in mimicry of a clock. When its human hands reached straight out, time stopped. There he lay absolutely still, a cruciform putto on sand angel wings, staring at a Michelangelo sky.”
J.R. Tompkins, The Gardens of Marguerite
“Anyway, I think we coalesce out of the ether, acquiesce into droplets of god, grow upright from the earth, and become arrogant. We live our lives in blissful ignorance of where we come from, but ultimately we owe our selves back to the earth.”
J.R. Tompkins, The Gardens of Marguerite