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VIII The Holy Forest
n t on  stretco unseen s above  could reveal itself to anyone in to see tside. S, searcly Italian books for t s to tient. So love talian spines, tispieces, tipped-in colour illustrations issue, too fast, as if breaking some minute unseen series of bones. Serhouse of Parma.

    “If I ever get out of my difficulties,” o Clelia, “I s to tiful pictures at Parma, and to remember t at t seemed t  arm ing redness onto  tton of s puffed sleeve at her shoulder.

    of the well.

    t diameter of ligo blackness, so it felt to Caravaggio t tucked t arm. As shers disappeared.

    Sood ter,  in Europe s

    come to tic face,  seemed cold,  during t toion. Years before, ried to imagine  but ed someone ies moulded out of y. Not tranger hing he had provided.

    Sed to t some point later sening, and quickly sc.

    as sy   on for a moment and t off again.

    to be in movement but Caravaggio.  all around  touco toraig around  glared o o still  t emerged into t, moved past Caravaggio’s face and stepped onto the boy’s neck beside him.

    Anot  on.

    “Got you. Got you.” t tline of . S, “I got you,  got you. I used Caravaggio—o s already all over o struggle out. t from boto climb and cra of terror. Confess. to calm  tening, excited at ture.  of t saying a  the room.

    tions o , and in to s o o est? Condensed milk?” Ss   of it, tasting   to see you.”  goes on and reaked , ion. owards him.

    s o to lean, puts all  into rusting o come rusting o break t in
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