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And all the while he danced to the high, hectic rattle of the drum, virtually in place, his motion translated into the pure illusion...Sometimes you look at a think and see only that is opaque, that it cannot be looked inot. And this opacity is its essence, the very truth of the matter. So it was for me the...mask. The man inside was merely motion and he had no face, and his name was the name of the mask itself. Had I lifted the mask, there should have been no one and nothing to be seen.
N. Scott Momoday
Kiowa |
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