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From The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse by Louise Erdrich, page 44:
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It was nearly twilight before she rolled him in. Her heavy nightgown was his shroud. His clothing, his cassock, and the small bundle tangled about him, a traveler's pouch tied underneath all else, Agnes put on in the exact order he had worn them. A small sharp knife in that traveler's pocket was her barber's scissors - she trimmed off her hair and then she buried it with him as though, even this pitiable, he was the keeper of her old life.
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It's Tuesday, Where Are You? is hosted by an adventure in reading.
I'm enroute to Ojibwe land to become, I believe, a rather unorthodox missionary.
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