Running, the music flew into him, became the wind that pushed back his hair and the slap of his own feet on the pavement.
— Ann Patchett
Bel Canto
© Spoligo | 2025 All rights reserved
Running, the music flew into him, became the wind that pushed back his hair and the slap of his own feet on the pavement.
— Ann Patchett
Bel Canto
© Spoligo | 2025 All rights reserved