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The Nymph to Narcissus Si non se noverit. . .—Ovid We invented one another, the way water and air are intimate, the way reflection is a lonely art. If you're smart you know better ways to suffer, know yourself insufferable. Is this true? Is this true? It was for beauty that we did each other in. You longed for no one, I was reduced to doubletalk. This is no way to live. Of course I turned to nothing but bones and a voice, then nothing but voice. Of course you couldn't stand the sight, your ground. In love the secret is the self; in death the echo of the secret. 147 ...

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