"The trees lose their flowers. Their leaves fall. Their bare branches stretch up to the sky begging for water . . . The sun goes on, day after day, from east to west, scorching relentlessly. The earth cracks up and deep fissures open their gaping mouths; but there is no water—only the shimmering haze at noon making mirage lakes of quicksilver . . . The sun makes an ally of the breeze. It heats the air till it becomes the loo and then sends it on its errand. Even in the intense heat, the loo's warm caresses are...
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