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We.  The two roaring worlds without and within: beingless beings.  And I.  Shatter them and myself in one blow.  Am I bitterer against others or against myself?  Me, we.  They, two women no longer young carry home from the sea a midwife’s bag with trailing navel cord containing eleven cockles.  Dilly, wants to speak French and visit the Paris I created.  Is it any good?  The shadows of my mind.  I see her mirror me.  Who do others see when they see me?  Do they see me timedulled and dusty?  Dreaming worlds words.  Dilly, lying in bed with her imitation gold bracelet seeing herself as Dan Kelly sees her.  Se el yilo she can say, nebrakada masculinum! Amor me solo! Sanktus! Amen.  Nebrakada.  A mashup of words.  What does it mean?  Neb: because, brak: lack, braka: crashing, ne: not, rakad: shave, rak: linear, kada: when.  Da.  I see it now.  Yes.  Woo me with Stephano Dedalo, alumno optimo, palmam ferenti: words of my longing.  Father Conmee longing for the hours, murmurs vespers five hours early.   Dutch, Swedish, Czech, Portuguese, Polish, French, Croatian, Russian.  An American word.  What are you doing here?   Who has passed here before me?  You?  Are you we?  Tell me the secret of all secrets.  Amor me solo!  Your world behind the glass, and my world within the glass, and between them we swirl.  Smash your way into me, my misery.  We will be we.  Together we will drown our agenbite of inwit.  We will be the darkness shining in brightness.  We will coil our inwit in our seaweed hair and sing it to sleep.  Fair beautiful sleep.  Then we will bite!  We will chew!  We will drown it in a salt green death.  We shall be misery standing from everlasting to everlasting.