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44 Running, River [First Daughter] What can I do but carry my brother on my sloping back, the one chosen for his beauty? What will he become should I release him into the field scattered with thorns? In the distance, the ancestors stand watching, disguised as redwoods. They wait for me to feel his clawing. They wait for me to wade into my desire for singularity. It’s true: Love makes me want to die. But what else can claim a power like that? Not even God or the demon of the death, crouched in the blackest corner with his two bright lidless eyes. ...

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