Oh, dread of life streaming from the living flesh with which the bones are clothed, softness of the skin spread and stretched over it, dreadful warning of the skeleton and the many-ribbed breast frame which he can now embrace, and which, breathing, now presses against him, its heart beating against his. Oh sweet fragrance of the flesh, humid exhalation, soft runnels beneath the breasts, darkness of the armpits.
Friday, February 5, 2010
The Sleepwalkers - pg. 39
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