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The three days passed, as time always does when you are alive, whether happy or tortured. And
“Everything is . . . happy,” it had said, sounding perplexed about this state. “Good,” I said, grinning. “That way, you won’t be so grumpy when you meet everyone. Khoush like politeness and the Himba expect a sunny disposition.” “I will wash this off soon,” it said. “It’s not good to feel this pleased with life.”
Looking into his eyes was like being a mirror who was looking into another mirror. Universes.
