A man without hands came to the door to sell me a photograph of my house. Except for the chrome hooks, he was an ordinary-looking man of fifty or so.
― What We Talk About When We Talk About Love
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My glittery trail
A man without hands came to the door to sell me a photograph of my house. Except for the chrome hooks, he was an ordinary-looking man of fifty or so.
― Raymond Carver, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love
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