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We already know: First we must agree
on which they are; but let us acknowledge that they exist:
they resound in all their weight and gravity
down Nievsky’s Prospekt, in the muttering of Raskolnikov,
down Nievsky’s Prospekt, in the muttering of Raskolnikov,
and Cortázar mocks them at every opportunity,
lightens them up, musses their hair, reconciles them