That night, L couldn’t fall asleep. The portrait he saw hanging in Hye-gyŏng’s room lingered before his eyes.
Tolkien mutters to himself as Mickey Mouse prances across the screen, doing American things he doesn’t understand or approve of. “Voice of the devil,” you hear.
Science, do not forsake us. / Pretend dying won’t be inglorious / and hard, that we’ll reflect light like gowns / sequined and glittering
But some time after I first encountered the term, I realized that, as much as I’d recognized in limerence, the word recognized me right back.
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