outside of town

Night fell; the moon glimmered. There was something menacing about the clear sky, the quiet fields, the roads running to and fro, this summer, this world where fate had compelled him to live. When he rested his head on his hand, it seemed he was trying to remember something and that was why he was so quiet, that he couldn’t do it. Where was he from? And where should he go, and did he have to go any farther?”

from: The Resurrection of Mozart by Nina Berberova

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