The hare was a bit farther on, invisible; he scratched one ear with his paw, and escaped, hopping away.
Is he here? There? Is he a bit farther on?
Only the expanse of snow could be seen, white as this page.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Marcovaldo - pg. 121 - Closing
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment