"Mellas continued to look at the wallet, saying nothing. Hawke, who had been watching Mellas through the steam that rose from his pear-can coffee mug, ...
The chanting went on, the musicians giving in to the rhythm of their own being, finding healing in touching that rhythm, and healing in chanting about death, the only real god they knew.
Photo by Ákos Szabó
Photo by Ian Turnell
The chanting went on, the musicians giving in to the rhythm of their own being, finding healing in t...
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