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I watched him and he watched me. Once, when we talked after lunch over a wooden table in his studio, he made a drawing of me listening to him. I have that too.

I won’t say his name for I would like to bring him here and that would only get in the way. Better for you to hear that laughter I heard on the funeral day and now and then through the years that followed. Better to see and feel as he did, if you can, if I can find the way to bring it to you.

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