Codex text
The pages of this book—memory?—describe a pair playing, colliding in the air, bodies formed for kissing, stroking lines of heat as molten as the sun. The dance is fluid, roiling, never ending, lovers tangled in a laughing knot that rolls on for years, a promise never to be parted, whatever ages come.
An annoyed thought intrudes, from one who marked this memory after it was recorded:
"By the gods, find a private chamber!"
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