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44 XXvI someone please tell Carlos drummond de Andrade that there is a stone in the middle of the road. I saw it too; finally. Carlos has been looking for that stone since my grandmother borrowed it to sharpen her knife. It was the onions, you see. my knife wasn’t so sharp either the day I cut the throat on my childhood. It’s not hard to kill a childhood. did you never see your father slap your mother? did you never feel the shame? Never thought, yes, shut up, mum? did her eyes never forgive you? Cats are easier to forgive. Even when their rabid bite costs you twenty-six injections to the stomach. Riding her bike in the slight drizzle each knee catching in my throat the young woman and white. The flash of underwear and I am six again. 45 ...

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