"Her hair was unkempt, frazzled, as though she'd been trying to tear it out by the roots, and her face seemed shapeless, blank. But maybe it was the distance or the strange light, because as she came towards me, moving coldly, disdainfully, yet dreamily, not as a body but as shifting shimmering light, she seemed to grow in stature and her years dropped away. She walked like a good politician, simulating dignity, self-assurance, humility. Already practicing probably for the last walk to follow."
-The Public Burning
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