Lucy loved orchestras, the bittersweet tinge of rosin dust that hung in the air, the way that the sun shone through filthy windows illuminating the marimbas with a storybook light. One of the reasons why I left Paris and came to London was because there was a man there who wanted me to marry him. “Have you dropped from the skies?” Sydney asked wonderingly. He stopped short with a little exclamation of surprise. “My hand! This isn’t the place.
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