COLUMNIST: Young Girls grow old, snowmen melt
This goes back, way back, to a day when, as if to remind me that life wasn't already whizzing by at light speed, there came into the farmyard a long black limousine. It stopped and lurked right outside the front door of the house. Right there in front of the door. Big black limos with shiny blackout windows don't occupy normal space-they lurk.
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