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behind feeney

Roethke takes the boat to Ballinasloe

wet fingernails floated on his thick spun hands mouth corners like dried cheese curds as he clasped the wooden side of the six-thirty heaving on the waves from Bofin to Ballinasloe hands that held the black and white collar of pints sunk in Gullane’s to sink the sight of the priest who banished his Fear […]

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