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I see crystal, spiral eights, intersections on them, junctions, abyss, the Himalayas, and card towers everywhere. Some Ace on the way, some King, some Queen… But always from somewhere a Joker peeps, suddenly, unexpectedly. It is as if he was inserted in the coat I wear, a coat of some old magician. Then he springs out, grins, shows himself, shouts – does not give up!
He turns laces and ribbons into roses, and tears into jingles. He leaves me coins on the way. I gather those unsightly, small twinkles and I stitch them around my waist, on my dress. They transform me into a heavenly dancer.
Who planted the forest in my hair? To whom should I bow?


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