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I fell in love with you before we ever met.

Perhaps it was in Paris in 1863, or Israel in 1687.


It may have been in my backyard on the outskirts of Rwanda

after you made love to me in the middle of a drought.


It was on a curve, around a bend, inside a car, inside the words you read to me.

It was inside a minute, inside a lifetime, inside of many.


It was that night in Paris. It was that day in Prague.

It was that week in London. That summer in Dubai.


By Suzanne Beranek