Paragraphs : William

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She pulled chimes in me . It could have been anyone , but it wasn’t , it was her , my destination unknown until then of which nothing can be said . She sang to me from a heart graced with eternal deserts , of gazelles , of souls complete , running towards the borderline of Mecca . She was the silence of a colorful arid flower , the silence of sandstorms . She was older , still breast feeding her baby , not yet divorced when I sent her letters from the Gulf War . ” Come she is your soul , let’s go to bed together , mount my bed and mix the magic , the work of love will breed trust between us “. ( Ulysses ) . She was my lover for three months , my illicit lover before I flew over the Persian Gulf . Changing my name , embracing Allah , leaving her behind she expanded awareness , not always hearing what I wrote but always hearing what I meant . She would never do me harm . She lied about me for those few months . I felt her shame , a shame so soundless . She wasn’t always open with me , not really open with anyone , soundless as if appearing in the frame of a camera held high above , looking down . No one understood us together , different ethnic races , me a black man and much younger . But then no one saw her sit in the bathtub with her thin arms wrapped around her knees the way I did . And when the night caught its breath at the window , she reminded me of a wandering albatross drifting out to sea with no control over direction or fate . While I drove my tank on the outskirts of Kuwait City , the desert birds , soundlessly standing on the cracks of Highway 8 , brought her back to me . On the coffin of war , rumbling faint , rumbling continuous , rumbling loud I lost my mind and on the flight back to the United States , I saw her image in someone else’s goggles peering back at me . I asked for tea , the copper lid shining like burning oil fields and the tea pouring to a thundering symphony with drums triumphant , strings mournful . What happened to Francis , my beloved ? Only the Most High could foretell . ” You will leave life even more beautiful than you entered it . Heaven will take you back ” …

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Last quote from ” The Reader ”