I have been listening to a lot of Valentin Silvestrov lately. The sad dreamy quality of his music is the perfect staff for my miseries to prop themselves up on as they traverse these last few weeks before finally collapsing. For my miseries fallow me like lambs across glaciers of sadness, but I lead them towards a slaughtering lullaby: a face which
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Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.
-- W.S. Merwin
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