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  • We die to each other daily. What we know of other people is only our memory of the moments during which we knew them. And they have changed since then. To pretend that they and we are the same is a useful and convenient social convention which must sometimes be broken. We must also remember that at every meeting we are meeting a stranger.

    T. S. Eliot (2014). “Complete Poems and Plays, 1909-1950”, p.338, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt