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At any rate, my nights are doing just fine. They could be incredible. Nights of the Inuits, when the night lasts for months, when desire grows during the wait for what the day promises. Here is how, I view this house, while awaiting the end of a cycle, if my desire prompts me to do something about it.
Between its walls, I thought someone was smiling at me. Inside the least cupboard that I was able to open a crack, in the least half-hidden object, it seemed to me that the aurora appeared. These things must have a second life somewhere.