He was always visualizing the Hand whenever he let his gaze rest upon the horizon. At any rate, here I am, and here I shall be, twenty thousand feet above all your poison-reeking cities, up where God’s wind comes fresh from heaven, very near indeed to the untrodden snows. Shouting to his companion, even as they passed by where I hid myself, he called out that he thought to find you at the convent.
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