For thirty years I have lived alone; but once upon a time I lived among men. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. He stood back and held her shoulders. What reassured her, however, more than anything else, was the shape of the mouth: it was warmly turned. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture.
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