She would be bad rather than forgotten, this dark angel I
still sometimes dream about, hearing her voice in the dead of night, recounting
her exploits over which I remain jealous, wishing I could have taken part in
them, even though they happened long ago, this dream sequence in which she
remains the principal character, waking at dawn overwrought with guilt, when
she had no reason to feel guilty, being bad because she needs to be something,
and better bad than nothing at all
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