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He felt himself to be a stunted shrub in a rainforest of towering trees.
who spoke a language of loss and sorrow nobody understood.
His incompletion, his untogetherness, his beginning waiting for an end, or was it his end waiting for a beginning, his story waiting for a plot.
‘Your jewels – now you know how it feels to be a woman!’
At any age there is future one doesn’t have. Never enough life when you are happy, that was the thing. Never so much bliss that you can’t take a little more.
