Blanca's presence in my life helps me cope with the sense of loss that haunts my subconscious. All of the friends, city streets, casts of light, poems that I've loved, buildings I remember seem to be constantly in the process of disintegrating, the way the mandala in a kaleidoscope collapses into colorful shards and light at the slightest shift of the tube.
Blanca brings the shards into focus. Just knowing that she's there -- always there, barring some act of war or massive geological upheaval -- brings the disintegrating fragments of memory to rest.
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