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Sound of Silence

You are there and you are not as the doors would neither open nor close and I may see you now while the very next moment my sorrows blind me, my sorrows that are quite so gay and straight and black that I may not see you dressed in white in a darker room and smiling for a moment as you are angry like evermore . . . I may even touch you in the nude and may or may not feel jovially embarassed, my new found delights that pain me like nobody's business as you are always there and never once haunting my rich city of memories, the Chinese downtown and the WASP countryside, my poor city of oblivion and joyous hatred . . . You are there and you are not as the doors would neither open nor close like a clash of cymbals that I may or may not enjoy like Coca-Cola as you are there and you are not dressed in white and naked stark . . .