The voice of the woman shouting at the children kept on going. A man walked past me with a dung bucket in his hand. The shoulder pole squeaked all the way. Slowly, the field became quiet, and there was a blur around it, and the glow faded away. I know that dusk is fleeting and night is falling from the sky. I see the broad land with a strong chest, that is the gesture of calling, just as women call their children, and the land calls the night<br>
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