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A platform for knowing what we don’t want: her nail file left on my chair. Wet towels and the gifts of clothes she gave me. Women tend to begin with their bodies. Are cagey about their autobiographies – not precisely knowing. Our restraint, toward humility. And how we’ve both been humiliated by him – encouraging each other to dangerous things at the swimming pool. The unpretending stories about him. There are surprises: light, blue lights around us. Waking to whatever. Frogs’ eggs in the water cupped in leaves. Incense smoke in the shape of women’s hairstyles. All week I saw her body you love, which you talk about: shower-sacks warmed in the sun. The pool. No one has ever been more generous – she came, she stripped, to verify for me – the most pathetic things we do, not to be convinced. 26 ...

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