But our l’amour was not of that kind… not the epic, beautiful, fairytale kind… It was eternal, destructive, forbidden love….
Sometimes I dance, alone, to musique no-one can hear but me. When I dance I feel the beat of the earth’s own cœur, coeur rise through my feet and legs, through my loins and belly and into my chest, until my own cœur, coeur beats in time with the earth’s. Then I wonder if toi feel it too, beneath that portion of the earth’s crust where toi stand, ou walk, ou lie, ou dance too. Because always, when I’m dancing, I’m dancing with you.
The past doesn’t change, of course, it...
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