In the gaze of the other

"My mistress' eyes are nothing…"

Annie Dillard’s “The Stunt Pilot”

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It was as if Mozart could move his body through his notes, and you could walk out on the porch, look up, and see him in periwig and breeches, flying around in the sky. You could hear the music as he dove through it; it streamed after him like a contrail.

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