Only now does it occur to him how long his daily life has been lacking sounds other than the ones he himself makes. He was always the most content, back in his old life, when his wife practiced the viola while he was sitting at his desk one room away, working on a lecture or article. The joy of the parallel universe is how he’d described it to her. She, on the other hand, had always insisted — above all in her final years — that the full happiness of marriage required each of the partners to look at one another, but really they had to touch. Unfortunately these discussions had increased
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