Setting her glass aside on the bar, Camilla eyed her interlocutor curiously. "It's precisely the rigidity of self-control that makes us want to relinquish it. Trust -- well. That is a problem. To undergo a profound loss of control -- an encounter with the divine; a birth; a death -- to undertake such a thing in the presence of others, it's easy to believe them closer to you than they really are. Trust's so fragile. I'm afraid none of my friends trust one another," she said with a sigh, leaning her elbow on the bar, and her chin on her upturned hand, the entirety of it an angle surprisingly graceful. "But I would still say that to live without thinking is quite the opposite of self-denial. It's in the dissolution of those boundaries that one is most precisely and gloriously oneself."
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She'd become more like Julian than she knew.