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  • “In our town, the puffballs and spring arrive hand in hand. These are the sort of puffballs that drift around, soaring over the cemetery, where all rest in peace, soaring over the beachfront and over the Germans, newly arrived, who don't feel the cold. Drifting, drifting... swirling... swirling... swirling... Drifting, drifting, drifting!”
    Aristide Caporale - Giudizio
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10/21/19 at 12:01 AM
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