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’ ..she liked the beginnings of things. the pure white possibility of the empty room, and endings, she liked endings, too. the tearful goodbye, the last awful word which could never be unsaid or unremembered. it was the middles that gave her pause. this, for all its forward momentum, this was a middle. the beginnings were sweet, the endings usually bitter, but the middles were only the tightrope you walked between the one and the other. no more than that. ’