A moderate incline runs towards the foot of Maybury Hill, and down this we clattered. Once the lightning had begun.
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I shouted above the sudden noise. She looked away from me downhill. The people were coming out of their houses, astonished.
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The Hill, located in the West New York, stirs visitors to confront what they cannot comprehend.
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The British prime minister continually survives the chaos of his choices—much to pundits’ chagrin. How?
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