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for five hundred and forty-seven years and you look like that. Do you know how old I am?” I press him, unable to fathom that length of time. “No, but I have a feeling you’ll tell me.” I think he’s making a joke, but I’m unsure because quite frankly, everything is blowing my mind at this point. “Twenty-seven. That’s a two and a seven. Meaning I’ve barely lived a thirtieth as long as you have.”

