Can I be blamed for wanting a real body, to put my arms around? Without it I too am disembodied. I can listen to my own heartbeat against the bedsprings... but there's something dead about it, something deserted. (Margaret Atwood)

Can I be blamed for wanting a real body, to put my arms around? Without it I too am disembodied. I can listen to my own heartbeat against the bedsprings... but there's something dead about it, something deserted.

Margaret Atwood

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arms body dead listen real something wanting heartbeat

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