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78 Eros He rules in exile like a king who hides in public and writes nothing down. He replenishes his sources from an underground river that is the home of the most hardy fishes. He lives in the mind like a lover in the attic who won’t come down, who needs everything brought to him in order to survive. He talks on the phone to the mind with whom he quarrels and then hangs up without saying good-bye. He works out all day on a secret track. Is vain, vain, vain in short short shorts. He walks in shackles from which he knows he can escape at any time, bleeding from the ankles all over the court. He dresses in rags but always looks great, emitting an odor of lilacs and dirt. He never ages or thinks too much. Plays the lyre like Orpheus. He tries to be serious like a child in church but can’t help laughing beneath his breath at the man in black who won’t shut up. deNiord text-2.indd 78 11/10/10 10:40 AM 79 He speaks to the animals like one himself and sleeps in the trees without falling out. He has dinner with Death once a week at the Café Rue where they eat and eat until Death throws up and the maitre d’ rips up the check. He searches the Earth in vain for a love of his own without giving up. deNiord text-2.indd 79 11/10/10 10:40 AM ...

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