That summer we lived in an icebox of a house, where nothing worked. The gas stove was stuck in a chimney that had no fireplace, plaid linoleum covered the chipped and rotting floor, a cold wet wind blew through the cracks in the doors and windows, the light bulbs hummed and fluttered, the clock struck at odd and unwarranted times, and we weren't allowed to drink the water from the sink because it came from an impure place. [excerpt]
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Leebron, Fred G. (Sep. 1990) In Another Country. The North American Review 275(3):38-39.