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“He is not here. Where did it go, my grief, my grief? Once you loved me on a hillside. I was pretty and tender as silence. Some things I knew well enough: first you love and then you lose. I had no idea there was nothing more.” — Jill Alexander Essbaum
He is not here. Where did it go, my grief, my grief?
Once you loved me on a hillside. I was pretty
and tender as silence. Some things I knew well enough:
first you love and then you lose.
I had no idea there was nothing more.