"Please, Hoddy, always tell me when do I things wrong. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture. "I should never have been what I am, but for you. " Her son complied, and sat down upon the patch-work coverlet beside her. She did not have to investigate that his door was locked. She often found herself absorbed by watching the tall grass undulate from the cave’s central doorway as solitary hunters prowled for buffalo and stag on the plain.
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