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Quote by Michael Montoure

“He'd grown unused to woods like this. He'd become accustomed to the Northwest, evergreen and shaded dark. Here he was surrounded by soft leaves, not needles; leaves that carried their deaths secretly inside them, that already heard the whispers of Autumn. Roots and branches that knew things.”

Quote by Michael Montoure

Book:Slices
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Slices

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Michael Montoure

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