“Whenever someone who knows you disappears, you lose one version
of yourself. Yourself as you were seen, as you were judged to be.
Lover or enemy, mother or friend, those who know us construct us, and their several knowings slant different facets of our characters like
diamond-cutter’s tools. Each such loss is a step leading to the grave, where all versions blend and end.” - Salman Rushdie
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