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2 You look and look, saying to yourself - "so then a man here could be my friend, a woman I could love?" The pain I was in kept me a little detached. I thought I am pretty churly. It was odd, in the little oblong looking glass - at the front of my car - by which you look back along the road drawn rectangle I saw the only face that stayed. Why can man ?pretend?. The face - that of a woman - was in another car, across the street. What had happened to her. She was beautiful, had stayed.