and this is how you see her.  As if you took the still-life and flipped through the days (or however the installments played out) and you saw how things changed—how the light and shadows played behind her in the room the angle and the closeness how it contours the face the largeness of the eyes and sometimes it is clearly outlined and other times you can barely see and of course the clothes are different the way the hair is maybe how the furniture looks and can you discern what time it is based on the light the angle of it in the webcam and sometimes just sometimes the light catches the eyes just right and they reflect.  She’s still talking:

of course that’s not what I wanted.  I always wanted to be normal the pressure is just what surrounds you because pretty much anything can be deemed as normal as long as two or three are gathered together in agreement (and really guilt only needs one accomplice) but go off by yourself and you might be diagnosed as seriously disturbed pretty quick until someone finally comes along and admits Ya I felt that too because really the best of us in the comedy of leaving doubt to fate know somehow God mysteriously loves us even when bad things happen and maybe that’s how you felt but you didn’t make the rest of the connection how really the mystical boob in all of us knows when we plug ourselves into our surroundings strange things happen and like a voice recognized and what the fingers have touched you are a unique soul and even if you die trivially tomorrow you played your part throughout the window of your eyes the funny thing if given a list of choices of who to be right before you won’t know what to choose because you don’t know who you are yet (I don’t think you knew who you were) and you can’t pretend to be something you’re not what you are not yet you can’t make the choice and if I was with you if I were with you that day I could have told it was the power you couldn’t take because you didn’t want to be to the one that has to say No

to finally see the lies and laugh

then he said So few people talk sincerely these days.  It’s always the profile of moods their impressions (what the eyes see and the ears hear) in vertical time the seeing what’s behind it that’s how this story’s being told:  It’s a lost Art really…

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