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Time stands unruffled
In my cloisterd room
Into this still pond
You enter, stealthily,
Touch, as cold as an icepiece,
Distant, yet all encompassing
Your face, a mask of unknown feelings
Yet, we touch intimately...
Almost like lovers!
"All of one's life is a struggle towards that; the narrow path between freedom and belonging. I have sometimes sacrificed freedom in order to belong, but more often I have given up all hope of belonging." Jeanette Winterson
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