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I AM THE HAPPINESS OF THIS WORLD

I AM LOUISE BROOKS, whom no man will ever possess. Photographed in profile, or three-quarter profile, or full front, photographed and filmed for as long as I can remember; interviewed for as long as I can remember (before and after I was forgotten); slandered and revered for as long as I can remember—I remain Louise Brooks, whom no man will ever possess. There is my hair, as black as all that, and the crest of my eyebrows, as black as all that, which do not meet in the center of my forehead but nearly meet at the edge of my bangs, the enameled black of my bangs attached to the rest of it, my hair, which I wore less as a helmet than as a shroud. There is my face and there are my eyes, implanted in that absolutely alabaster exterior known as my face, seen time and again in profile and three-quarter profile and full front, which did not convey the vitality of youth so much as it conveyed the

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