Desire, or something so small as love, was subservient to revolution; this truth he knew

Revolution! A word caught in the deepest web of irony. Is it a sudden brave leap forward away from the past, or a circle that always brings us back to where we were before?

This small thing, love: at its first appearance, it too is caught, oscillating between passages it dares not embark on, and tireless returns back to the same spot.

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