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“Without raising my voice, I dissolved my form once more, raging at the souls as they surrounded me and plunged again into the velvet blackness, only this time I could smell the roses, and with the roses there came a memory, a memory of a procession, and people cheering and crying and waving, and a handsome man singing with a beautiful voice, and petals being tossed so high they showered down on us, on our shoulders…but the memory faded.” — Anne Rice
Without raising my voice, I dissolved my form once more, raging at the souls as they surrounded me and plunged again into the velvet blackness, only this time I could smell the roses, and with the roses there came a memory, a memory of a procession, and people cheering and crying and waving, and a handsome man singing with a beautiful voice, and petals being tossed so high they showered down on us, on our shoulders…but the memory faded.