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You say I am here to love you. It repeats, precisely, in the distance. And again, further away. No matter how many times you say it, or how many different ways you try to phrase it, you can’t still the world. The building shutters against you, and perhaps a train is coming into town. Who will be on it? Accompanied by the voices of some earlier self. Filtered through the early light, whatever love was there turned round in your mouth as you speak I will find you. Who knows what we’ll do. I hear the birds sing for you.

Photographs