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Slowly, note by note, oriental music is played. He gazes in the tawny crystal of her eyes, ringed with kohol. ZOE: You'll know me the next time. Near are lakes. Round their shores file shadows black of cedargroves. Aroma rises, a strong hairgrowth of resin. It burns, the orient, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the bronze flight of eagles.
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