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53 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1963

Our legs buckled, our shoulders went numb, our hands swelled, but we managed to carry it to the cemetery — to the grave — our last harbour on earth, at which we put in only once, never again to sail forth — this Stefan Kanik, eighteen, killed in a tragic accident, during blasting, by a block of coal.
All of July has been streaming with rain and people have stopped believing in summer.
To hell with smoking. We feel like crying