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My Beatrice
Distance on the face of slow Time, the vacant-window stare swallowed by Eternity, the desert burning underfoot, all around, everywhere; the lizard, too hot to move; the birds molten against the fiery sky-- I see it all, and, like you, I want to die. But a long road, running straight to the horizon, promises mirages and daydreams, if we will but follow it, through this hellish wasteland. Come; I will follow where you lead, watching you bleed and frown, watching...