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the song she sang to herself in the lonely night the same song she sang every night when the world swirled around her ears and the tears came to keep her company (or at least validate her humanity) the solitary song is coming. it starts at her toes and up up it goes up through the dark sweet musk up into her belly where it feels a bit like summer and then up through her lungs which expand and let out the breath she has been holding. for too long. by the time it reaches her heart she remembers that samba. that great delighted rythym of life and death and hope and fear and love and look outside the gate, don't wait, oh laughter of the rushing years, oh laughter born of a trillion tears. don't wait! here is the thing: it's a song, its a song its a song. so sing.