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21 Passing through His eyes are holograms, his body barely there, in the darkness beneath the lintel. Passing through, into the courtyard where children play, trees fringe the lattice work. A silvery summer sky yearns. The lemon juice is bitter before he adds sugared water. It cools her mouth, like a breath, close to the nape, flickers. The febrile leaves of poplars undulate in the air. He kisses her solemnly holding her close, at a distance. ...

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