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To be dissolved: the long nights, alone in dark clubs and alone in dark bars and alone in dark bedrooms, trying desperately to find light. To be dissolved: the visits from grandchildren, hesitant and shy. The smell of young skin, too much memory in that downy scent. But always enough love, always hands in the dollhouse, more figures always needed.
And I Do Not Forgive You: Stories and Other Revenges
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