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43 The Romance of the Television Each night a new lover on screen. Each night the erotics of travel: the Moulin Rouge, the low-cut dress of a dancer. Each night the dream of a tuxedo and parquet floors, the heeled foot on the waxed board. Sometimes a negligee on a lamp. Sometimes rejected dresses on the floor. Sometimes a meager arm. Sometimes the admiring script of a letter. Like when Domingo, looking out the window of an airplane years ago saw the landscape of America and thought it to be handwriting, the rivers bending in the cursive of a shaky hand. ...

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