Go well my Darling you, at least for now. I don't know if this is the time for celebration or mourning, silence or song, you greedy lover you, who demanded and devoured all that ever mattered, who insisted I live for absolutely nothing but you. Go well, for there is a madwoman sitting on a typewriter outside my window, crying ink, and I need to see what her madness is all about. Hamba kahle.
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