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Still later, outside, the breath of earth was a swarming current of the memory of wild herbs. She said, “I guess I’m bored. If only I could meet someone worthwhile.” And then she shrugged. It seemed to produce a sensation of choice. I immediately knew my place. I responded with, “you’re pretty fresh, ain’t ya?”, my voice intending to suggest choosing the obvious misfit to distract from any real threat. Already it was becoming obvious that I was distracted, but I enjoyed these hallucinations of gathering. Then, the very rapid echoes beneath each breath of each dancer.