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turning to page one
turning to page one
Lincoln sits before an open window. He's dishevelled, in shirtsleeves an unbuttoned vest, next to an inkwell, papers and books of law scattered about, and a lit candle in a candlestick, guttering. Grant's telegraph is in one hand, and in the other hand, his spectacles and, dangling from a chain, his open pocket watch. His bare left foot keeps time with the watch's loud ticking. He stares out into the cold night.