The Tall Man was a sick man and as such had vivid dreams in which the events of his life took on great metamorphoses to shapes again familiar. He dreamt of these shapes coming from the dark and from the walls, with arms from people and the walls being held up by these arms, creating hovel and home alike. Very beautifully done, the king made of his castle. A king prenatal, with such a sad story; no bad faith, some minor assessments at points along the way, but mistakes all the same. The trees of the field clapping their hands. To be like them, their dates and records logged in satellite buildings across the area, but the mountains and the hills continuing to push forward although only briefly did The Horse Girl speak.

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