The earth is rocky and full of roots it's clay and it seems doomed and polluted but you dig little holes for the ugly shriveled bulbs throw in a handful of poppy seeds and cover it all over and you know you'll never see it again - it's death and clay and shrivel and your hands are nicked from the rocks your nails black with soil.

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The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears the figure that she carries or the way she combs her hair.