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Bleak, classical in form, earnest and grave.
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On Open Library, 6 have read it and 27 want to.
“THE EVENING SKY WAS streaked with purple, the color of torn plums, and a light rain had started to fall when I came to the end of the blacktop road that cut through twenty miles of thick, almost impenetrable scrub oak and pine and stopped at the front gate of Angola penitentiary.”
Closest on the same fourteen dimensions, from everything scored on Taste Buds. Other media included when they land close.