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"Did you leave me because of me?"
"No," she said. "I left you because of us."
How often do we tell our own life story? How often do we adjust, embellish, make sly cuts? And the longer life goes on, the fewer are those around to challenge our account, to remind us that our life is not our life, merely the story we have told about our life. Told to others, but - mainly - to ourselves.
Some Englishman once said that marriage is a long dull meal with the pudding served first.
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