...

ifillhisglassatthebarandu.butihadlikehinotatall.

“thatshenrykissinger.”

here,theantthingstoattendtothandrinkihirstyagain.”

ofurse,rryingapoetendidntreadpoetryandgodforbidtheyshouldeverenrealboysplayedsothenstrueafghanistandidnthavetvsyet.hesignedupforsoepassionin.butiyo,albledaboutthefieldonseyaroverheadfrantiopen”thereieabundaoapassionatespea,uldntiifakediforaslongaspossible.iselftothebleakfactthathissoherplayorer.

ireeroibabatooktotheyearlybuzka**ouantthattookplathedstofalee,atfullgallop,anddropitinasringanddoeseverythinginitspohithatday,theenonthefieldbellobledtheupperbleaflyingfroheirhorsesuths.

thatyfathersaloofness,ihersbooks.thatandhassan,ofurse.ireadeverything,ru,hfez,saadi,viarkting.ythersbooksnotthe

bhistoryones,iuyallothebookstorenearincardboardboxes.

“oh,”isaid.ididntknoighthaveasked.butatthent,ichedhhorrorasohechapandazfelloffh

atonepointbabapoiosoone.“ar,doyouseethatnsittingupthereenaroundhi

idid.

inss.”thefarsiteaapoendyouroppohadsixtysendstoreplyeletterthatendedyours.everyonein,beisfaussookoered,“good.”

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