them standing in doorways, leaning from windows, or strad-
dling the slow moving edge of a shadow. Lovers of the in-
between, they are neither here nor there, neither in nor out.
Poor souls, they are driven to experience the impossible. Even
at night, they lie in bed with one eye closed and the other
open, hoping to catch the last second of consciousness and
the first of sleep, to inhabit that no man’s land, that beautiful
place, to behold as only a god might, the luminous conjunc-
tion of nothing and all.
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