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The Child Jung ‘What will become of the boy?’ —his father “This stone is, was for ages, and will be: knows I know, and it’s good, hidden, hidden I’m a great old doctor, whirling, an eighteenth-century man whirling through the woods in a light green carriage, buckles on my shoes . . . Schoolboy! the filthiest boy ever made, or blessed . . . oh curled black shivering freak! O my stone God quicksand Eternity!” Coltrane, Syeeda’s Song Flute ‘When I came across it on the piano it reminded me of her, because it sounded like a happy, child’s song.’ —Coltrane To Marilyn, to Peter, playing, making things: the walls, the stairs, the attics, bright nests in nests; the slow, light, grave unstitching of lies, opening, stinking, letting in air pilgrims 93 ...

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