You have always talked to me through secret signs, with your hands, your face, your breathing, and I’ve always understood whatever you meant by your sighs and tics; I know the hidden meaning of all your awkward acts as if I’d knitted you. With me, you don’t have a hope of hiding inside some role: I hold onto you by every corner of the veil that lets me see you all the way into invisibility, to a place where you may not even know yourself

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