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"The
Sari, it is said, was born on the loom of a fanciful weaver. He dreamt of Woman.
The shimmer of her tears. The drapes of her tumbling hair. The colors of her
many moods. The softness of her touch. All these he wove together. He couldn't
stop. He wove for many yards. And when he was done... the story goes, he sat back
and smiled and smiled and smiled.
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