ENTERING
VLADIVOSTOK
Curtains and the big tents are on the field :
a few struggling, white horses are hitting
the ground - that leg and hoof thing horses
do. A grizzled man by the gate is smoking
a stumpy cigarette. My paperwork, in order,
says 'go on in,' but I really don't want to listen.
I'm afraid of everything. The cold sunlight shines.
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