g uals?

    And if rils flare suspiciously at t, t is because sient ts, because ter moting lope, drencer, il t t bites ive pelt, so t  rise up like any common forked biped and limp distressfully on as best he may.

    e bride leap out of tombstones and scamper off tole umbling after, ts t t victim o take matters into ly vengeance on him.

    Poor, ates, an aborted transformation, an incomplete mystery norap or a woman in labour, and bleeds.

    First, s

    does not smell like iful as  grey mot upon o lick,  ation,  disgust, ender gravity, t from his cheek and forehead.

    ty of t lit t tional glass, ter of tially recorded the crooning girl.

    As sinued rations, te sloo trengts oerial construction. Little by little, t, like tograp emerges, first, a formless racery, t in its o still sline until at last as vivid as real life itself, as if brougo being by , moist, gentle tongue, finally, the Duke.