are we really free now, my darling? (your letters they all say that you're beside me now. Then why do I feel alone?)

"Come over to the window, my little darling,
I'd like to try to read your palm.
I used to think I was some kind of Gypsy boy
before I let you take me home.

Now so long, Marianne, it's time that we began
to laugh and cry and cry and laugh about it all again."

(Leonard Cohen)

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