When I was in high schoool , I read "The Bridge of San Luis Rey" and one of the characters was La Perichole, a woman whose looks had been so disfigured by smallpox that she refused to go out, or to be seen without a veil. I'm pretty much at that point now, and I don't even own a veil. I think the effects of time are even worse than smallpox. The only other memory I have of that novel, besides the names of twins Manuel and Esteban, is the theme arrived at, something like: There is a land of the living and a land of the dead, and the only bridge between the two is love." So I guess I'll hang a drape over all the mirrors in my house, and cross that bridge when I come to it.
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