Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. He had done this a dozen times on the way from his office. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. ‘Where the devil have you been?’ ‘Consorting with a nun in the gardens. “I may go to Hatton House later, but you needn’t wait. Her eyes seemed to be looking backwards.
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This video was uploaded to jandlonmark.org on 04-07-2024 10:12:22
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