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A lonesome car. The wind is whistling. A door of an undefined building opens—is it a holiday bungalow, a shed or a ruin? A woman is standing at the window. The heat of an idle day of holiday, perhaps. The South, a place of longing. |
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A lonesome car. The wind is whistling. A door of an undefined building opens—is it a holiday bungalow, a shed or a ruin? A woman is standing at the window. The heat of an idle day of holiday, perhaps. The South, a place of longing. |