‘You have every right to be angry with me. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights.
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