“I see nothing of my sister,” she said. She hid behind a mirage of piety, just as I do. “How did you find me?” She asked. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. Oui, dans la note.
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