“Why should one pretend?” she whispered. Lucy could see the anger in her silhouette, the punishments and the grounding being formulated for the now dead daughter. Ali, topluma hizmet etmek ve ihtiyacı olanlara yardım etmek istiyordu. “Rubbish!” he answered. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. 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. "Why do you laugh?" he asked.
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