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How quiet it is, how silent,
like an afternoon in Pompeii.

Louise Glück
I held the book awhile.
It was Death in Venice

Louise Glück
the persistent haze of nostalgia that protects all relics of childhood
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if the essence of time is change,
how can anything become nothing?

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Language was filling my head, wild exhilaration
alternated with profound despair

Louise Glück
The end came and went.
Louise Glück
this emerging of shape from chaos
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 Silence again, multiplied.
Louise Glück
The sky, alas, is still far away,
not really visible from the bed.
It exists now as a remote hypothesis,
a place of freedom utterly unconstrained by reality.

Louise Glück
much of my original self
is already dead

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Indeed, there was no feeling.
Louise Glück
in a room without clocks
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The glass was empty; it left no mark on the tablecloth.
Louise Glück
All this time I had the giddy sensation
of floating above my life. 

Louise Glück