Louchébem Days

The lizard days, flattened against dusty walls, notched with deep shadow, even the market hushed for once with exhaustion.

The horse days, close and misty, when the beasts steam and their breath flows in tatters.

The wolf days, when bravos run one another through at noon, their hearts full of heroism and the scent of jasmine.

The cat days, as summer stretches to grim autumn and the chateaux smell of mildew and the lees of wine.

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