If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I.
Dove in the Arch
by Robert Desnos
be the father of the bride
of the blacksmith who forged the iron for the axe
with which the woodsman hacked down the oak
from which the bed was carved
in which was conceived the great-grandfather
of the man who was driving the carriage
in which your mother met your father.