![]() no matter where the spade turns the soil, it uncovers broken pavements and corroding metal and scholars write that the kind of sand that artists call polychrome (because flecks of every color are mixed with its whiteness) is actually not sand at all, but the glass of the past, now pounded to powder by aeons of tumbling in the clamorous sea. ![]() i have heard those who dig for their livelihood say there is no land anywhere in which they can trench without turning up the shards of the past. "it struck me that his face was not only that of a fox but a stuffed fox. ![]()
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