« Her silence is mine. Her eyes, mine. It is as if she had known me for a long time, as if she knew everything about my childhood, my present, my future; as if she was watching over me, guessing me from closer, although I see her for the first time. I felt that she was my wife. Her pale complexion, her eyes… These are my eyes, my soul…I have entered a new house, and I am inseparable from it. »
(Marc Chagall)

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