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Just before morning it seemed night
And birds in darkness and absence.
All the while there is truth, unreality
And rain and the sun behind clouds
Exquisite in the camera but a fatal
Failure to retract just when needed.
It is lens error, dear, just like my life
Which I had chanced upon in error
On the bleak shores of fetal nothing.
All our pictures remain in our minds
Our river valleys and ancient stupas
Stay deep in gorges of brown history.