A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. But I must summon my janizaries. I felt—I felt living in a masked world. “He says you are frigid, Madame. ” “I believe you,” she murmured. ‘Difficult, I grant you. I can get into my clothes. This is a tale of two young fools. The babies that the woman—your wife—refused to stop creating.
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