...you used to say to me that I am a great young girl, and though you left me here to perish, though you put beneath my feet a great howling pit of emptiness, the words that lie at the bottom of my soul leap forth and they light the shadows below me; I am the one who was lost in the crowd, whom the fizzing lights made dizzy, a subaltern who saw everything about her reduced to absurdity, for if I were truly a great young girl the specters would cease bellowing; I was a young child with a body and soul, I had a heart that was not protected by a steel vault, and when I had moments of ecstasy I would sing with burning sparks; for I sang of the Gnomes, their purple-feathered legs that would dance on the plums...but nobody heard...when my eyes turned to grief, sorrow spreading inward, flattening my nose against my spine, tongues pounding in my heart, blood turning to drool, and soon the weight of my sinking flooded my ears...


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