A tarnished refrigerator–if I close my eyes I can see it again and move about from room to room. It was a family heritage, with a timepiece that chimed all over everyone. There was a sundial there, where the family played checkers and would drink in the lilac. The destination of the young was to be music and the unreal. Conversation resembled the universal stirrings we sought words for. Only the night sky was a solid, the fixed stars like syllables feeding the imagination. When Rebecca arrived, we spent an hour with her, having apples and chocolate that year.

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