Her head dangled unnaturally for an instant, unleashed from its moorings, then sank to join her husband’s on the floor. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. There were more of us back then, and we weren’t seen as ghouls, in fact, in Greece and the time before we were worshipped as gods. "It is an ordinary wedding," he added; "some shopkeeper's daughter.
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