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He strode fro south toward Blue Street

When he had gone, Rafu crawled fro into the tataed herself the slats of fine dark wood becarass, her silk screens beca back She stood up, unfolding into a wo out froer-painted screens that ended in graceful hands She sank down over Milo’s drowned body

“Save her,” my Rafu wept “Save her because of her nakedness, how bare she was before me, and how I loved her smaller breast”

“It’s no good, concealer-of-s”

BECAUSE YOU ARE NEW

The Paradise of the Pure Land exists within Yokosuka as hair caught in a brush—the teeth of the city rise tall through the tangles and think nothing of the onyx strands wind and snarl It is, of course, possible to yank all these strands free with a pitiless fist They will not protest

Rafu and I followed the dreahway, through the wet, dank tunnel and up the jungled terraces He was not hard to follow, being loud and foreign He ate cherry trees along the way, opening his jaw and sing theht When he reached the city, he seized in one hand a Peacock of Right Intention, squir horey base He shoved each into his olden chicken

On Blue Street, he ate hats, belts, rice-cookers, kerosene laht bulbs, expensive Italian shoes, the Grocers of Perfect Balance, aquariums, streetlament Rafu wrinkled her new nose and clapped her screen-arms

“Is this what you are like, on the inside?” she said

“This is what everyone is like on the inside,” I sighed

“It’s not what I’m like!”

“That is because you are new You did not have a sto how to fill it You do not yet know it can never be filled”

Just ahead of us, the dreaed his jaw and sed a drink machine It expired with a red whine

“Will he eat us all?”

“Yes,” I said calmly “He is a dream; he does not know this is not a drea of his soft, plain ho is not narey boat and a fine cap Dreams are more literal More honest”