There was nothing quite as powerful as a name. As a lover of books and of languages, she especially knew that to be true — all words had meaning and importance, but names held a particular importance. A name gave the impermanent permanence, the overlooked some sense of remembrance. To have a name was to be seen, even for the briefest of moments, is proof of one’s incontestable existence. Knowing the name of another was a gift, a way to acknowledge them, to call them into account, regardless of how casually people treated introductions. She had read enough stories over the years, after all, of
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