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PIL

March 18, 2015

In time and without surprise, I found myself in a churchyard where I confirmed that the bones of the Bundesdorf make not a sound. Farther uphill stood the marble Kreuzberg stair, its twenty-eight steps barred by a wrought-iron grill. I consulted the hours and instead turned south and contented myself with plucking blackberries from thickets lining the way.

 

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