Mercy and the Machine
In the space between what we owe the living and what we owe the dead, there is a territory that has no name. It is not limbo. It is not purgatory. It is a stretch of highway somewhere outside Flagstaff, Arizona, where the road rises and falls with the contours of the land and the sky opens up so wide that you can see weather systems colliding a hundred miles away. That was where the Chevrolet...
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