He carries with him something that will mark him anywhere—the girl. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. What our dear mother would say back home I dread to think. ’ The lady sighed and spread her hands. Through yet another doorway she observed an ancient silk brocade loom.
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