The horrible “here”, the dark dungeon, in which a relentlessly howling heart is incarcerated, this “here” holds and constricts me. But what gleams shine through at night, and what – It exists, my dream world, it must exist, since, surely there must be an original of the clumsy copy. Dreamy, round, and blue, it turns slowly towards me. It is as if you are lying supine, with eyes closed, on an overcast day, and suddenly the gloom stirs under your eyelids, and slowly becomes first a languorous smile, then a warm feeling of contentment, and you know that the sun has come out from behind the
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