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Wooly Girl

graphite print
 



When the flames came up her eyes burned out there like gatelamps to another world. A world burning on the shore of an unknowable void. A world construed out of blood and blood's alcahest and blood in its core and in its integument because it was nothing save blood had power to resonate against that void which threatened hourly to devour it.



― Cormac McCarthy, 

 

The Crossing
 

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