No, I do not lie in Weaver Cemetery, any more than your beloved Augustine lies in Annaba. Wherever you went in this world, however many others you chose to lie with, I am beside you--do you not always look over your shoulder?  To whatever other worlds you wander, there I go, too.  Your people are ever my people,  and your best aspirations, my hope.  If I love you, what concern is that of yours?

       Do you think your faithlessness makes faith less real?  O, Callie, you are so false and hollow!  What do you imagine reality to be?  If your fictions can transcend the paltry day-to-day,  can then a soul be buried, forgot?

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or see the correspondence with Katherine Anne Porter