A woman’s shoe lay on the threadbare carpeting. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. The same overly curly pubic hair, which she now saw was trying to protrude from the sides of her bikini underwear. Is this a reason?’ ‘Not good enough? Now I had every hope that it would appeal to you. I was grateful. “Fine. Sheppard stopped him. It was a tale of battle, murder, and sudden death on the New York waterfront. What he intended to do with it is of little consequence now. I seek chaos, but not out of choice.
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