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You broke my heart a little, I broke his heart a little, her heart shattered a little, she bruised yours a bit too. Those misshapen porcelain pieces are now here, in front of a child’s eyes. He will rearrange them as he sees fit, he’ll fill in most of the holes with clay, he’ll smooth out the crevices with his baby fingers and giggle as he ties the fragments together with pretty silk bows. He’ll toss them so that they glisten in sun and his mother will hang the light-catcher he made in his nursery window. 
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