I’m in love with these two sentences:

 I hear a low moaning emanating from a room down the hall.  As we approach the room, the moaning intensifies until it becomes a thrumming drone, punctuated by the sort of plaintive bleatings a herd of sheep might make while being devoured by wolves who had been taught by their mothers to eat slowly and savour their meals.

from “A Review of the Penguin Book of Canadian Short Stories, edited by Jane Urquart” by Michael Darling in CNQ


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