Three lemons hanging at the gate. Three. Lest he passes through my doorstep and turns him back around. Four nails and a horseshoe, up in the beam above the porch. Four. Lest he enters out of hurt. Doru looking at icons, willow branches, fasting five days a month, sometimes on Fridays too. Five. Tickle his feet in his slippers. Let six devils jump on his head, his night be short, his eyelids be …
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