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5 Once, Again Each April is the same but somehow greener every year. Lovers who’ve made love on hundreds of nights anticipate the next loving as their first. Shaving for the twenty-seven thousandth time on the Fourth of another July should be no different, but it is. Breakfast today, although identical with yesterday’s, is one day better. Even these words have predecessors by the millions from my very hand, but still I write them as the first and final words I’ll write. Some say I should be bored. If so, I should be bored with breathing, but I’m not. If you believe hereafter’s here already, and that now is always now, you’d say the same. And you’d be right. ...

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