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"
I
don
t
know
.
"
Billy
became
quieter
when
they
reached
the
small
cemetery
near
the
Beacon
School
for
the
Mentally
Retarded
.
"
This
is
where
I
come
sometimes
to
try
and
sort
things
out
.
It
s
the
saddest
place
you
can
imagine
.
"
The
writer
looked
at
the
little
headstones
,
many
of
which
had
fallen
over
and
were
overgrown
with
weeds
.
"
I
wondei
why
they
just
have
numbers
,
"
he
said
.
Отключить рекламу
"
Well
,
when
you
don
t
have
family
or
a
friend
in
the
world
,
Billy
said
,
"
and
nobody
really
gives
a
damn
and
you
die
here
,
all
your
records
are
destroyed
.
But
there
s
a
list
of
who
s
buried
,
where
in
case
anybody
shows
up
again
.
Most
of
these
people
died
during
the
fever
of
.
.
.
1950
,
I
think
it
was
.
But
there
s
markers
over
there
from
1909
and
earlier
.
"
Billy
began
to
wander
among
the
graves
.
"
I
d
come
up
here
and
sit
on
the
bank
over
there
near
those
pine
trees
,
to
be
alone
.
It
s
depressing
to
be
in
this
graveyard
and
know
what
it
s
about
,
but
it
s
also
got
a
kind
of
peace
to
it
.
You
notice
how
that
dead
tree
hovers
over
it
?
There
s
a
kind
of
:
grace
and
dignity
about
it
.
"
Отключить рекламу
The
writer
nodded
,
not
wanting
to
interrupt
.
:
"
What
they
did
when
they
started
to
build
this
graveyard
was
to
make
it
in
a
circle
.
You
see
how
they
go
around
like
a
big
spiral
?
Then
when
that
big
fever
came
and
they
started
running
out
of
space
.
They
had
to
start
burying
them
in
rows
.
"
"
Do
they
still
use
this
graveyard
?
"