(fragments)
Many years ago when I was just beginning my life, I lived in a city of mysteries, shrouded often in fog, or alternately bathed in a golden light. I walked constantly there, intent on enrobing myself in its velvety essence, because I must somehow have known how fleeting my stay would be.
The city's streets were a tangle of exquisite treasure boxes balancing upon spectacularly steep hills, all set against the scumble of a blue gray sea. Every day and then again in the night, I wandered, entranced, bewitched, rapt. It wasn't that I wanted to unravel mysteries or have them yielded or revealed to me in any way. Instead, it was that I found myself, suddenly, the recipient of a gorgeous new existence. Things I hadn't even known I'd been dreaming of previously appeared to me now, as gifts, beautifully wrapped, waiting just for me to stumble upon them. I felt, for the first time in my life, as if I were the beloved, and the feeling was intoxicating to me.
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