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There, where it smells eternal spring and overlooks the arcane, in a fairy tale castle I see you and I crave you, my queen. Novello Praxiteles, I sculpted the simulacrum for you that only to goddesses is granted, marble, bright, with the swaying peplos that only partially cover your graces they will shape your hips and the round and smooth shapes of arms and legs. Then I will wrap it in myrtle and I will worship her as my only goddess.