Speaking of nut-heads reminds me of the shrunken head trophies which head-hunters sell as souvenirs in the interior of Ecuador and of a specimen I later saw in La Paz.
The large, soft dark eyes were raised, but seemed rather engrossed by their own feelings—(thoughts are scarcely tender enough for such a look)—than fixed upon any surrounding object.
She could hear the maid beating the pillows—a trounce for each—and tossing them into a pile where they fell with a plump.
nonjazz musicians
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