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how proust can ruin your love life: Sept. 25, 2011 (10:08 pm)

in the last city we called home, j. lived above the apartment i shared with d. and i wonder how many times he must have watched us kiss goodbye at the door or, not watched, but just walked by it without noticing this part of his urban landscape (and how many times did we blow smoke out of windows separated by a story or had sex separated by our ceiling and his floor). here, we've noticed each other and suddenly together have those kisses, those cigarettes, that sex. m. called it fate, but it's just geography and it's not better, it's just now.

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