#38200 - I would soon cry, within minutes, panting without breath, like a little girl, like the helpless little girl we buried today, within minutes I would cry out: “Karajan, Karajan! I am cold. The Confession Choking on my own tears, moaning through blood smeared panties, unable to swallow, both hands bound with rope far apart on the same brass bed where we conceived our first child, our only child—Milena, who is dead now—I am at last at peace. The knuckles in his right fist are torn.
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