” That phrase about dragging the truth through swamps of nonsense she remembered from Capes. . She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. The inside was empty except for an infant, which from a distance looked utterly normal. There are no funerals among the poor, only burials. But she felt his lax figure become rigid.
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