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Expelled from their natal gardens, the lovers take refuge in the desultory enclaves of the earth. These are the lands that their footsteps have crossed, hiding from rain and the judgement of men. These are the alcoves where they have hidden their bodies. The cars that held them uncomfortably in their overflowing. Lost motels and grasslands under freeways. They no longer need the paradises of the gods. A forest, a bedroom, an alley suffices. They wander in exile together, homesick for a world with judgement, before guilt and knowledge, before the gods, before the naming and dividing of things. Their love and their labor must now transform each place into a home. Their philosophy is a nostalgia for the inifinite: the feeling of being at home everywhere. |