“Do you know him?” Lucy replied, “No, I haven’t met him. He built her the most beautiful castle 242 in the world in the desert, carving fountains where real water ran and gardens in a place where no plant had ever bloomed. Then she dropped the curtain and stepped back into the room. She felt herself shaking again. “You wish me to stay?” he asked, in a low tone. “I don’t know. Nervously he pulled alongside the dilapidated oncewhite farmhouse. You have the gift of words, but you haven't started to create yet.
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