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“The overblown woman swept out in a waft of attar of roses and Della stood relishing the patch of frail sunlight, imagining herself down by the creek feeding Tidda a handful of sweetgrass while she listened to the Darkinjung women tell their stories.” — Tea Cooper
The overblown woman swept out in a waft of attar of roses and Della stood relishing the patch of frail sunlight, imagining herself down by the creek feeding Tidda a handful of sweetgrass while she listened to the Darkinjung women tell their stories.