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And the waltz plays on and my hand is on her lower back and her body touches mine and her warm scent entangles with her perfume and washes over me as we move in step ‘round the hall’s wooden floor and, intuitively, I am cognizant of Desire, but in a fleeting sort of way like that moment when a man, realizing death is near, becomes immobile on the Road to That Other Place where irrational thoughts ghost, and my father’s shade beckons.