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It was an effect of light: quick sunlight dappling, yellow leaves falling (but from what? Were there even trees on West Fifty-seventh Street?), a shower of gold, spangled, very fast, a falling of the bright. Later I watched for this effect on similar bright days but never again experienced it. I wondered then if it had been a seizure, or stroke of some kind.
The Year of Magical Thinking (book) by Joan Didion
Language: English
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