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I
was
even
convinced
that
during
those
moments
her
face
changed,
that
her
lips
curled
with
scorn
and
she
was
perhaps
laughing
with
some
other
man,
and
that
the
whole
story
of
the
passageways
was
my
own
ridiculous
invention,
and
that
after
all
there
was
only
one
tunnel,
dark
and
solitary:
mine,
the
tunnel
in
which
I
had
spent
my
childhood,
my
youth,
my
entire
life.
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