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In the cold prison of our minds, we are alone with our self-hatred, our doubts, and guilt. No one more than Sevro. A friend may reach through the bars and hold our hand, but they cannot open the door for us. Only the prisoner has the key. All I can do is remind him we’re waiting for him when he gets out.
“Eidmi means, ‘I devour,’ ” I say. “In Hittite, no?” “Yes. Devour, eat, consume. It is the root of the word ‘edit’ in many languages.” “Edit. As in edit out a Color?” “Yes, on whatever sphere it is deployed.” “Even Gold?”