Perhaps, she may tell me whose picture this is. It’s made up of things as small as the diameter of hairs and big as life and death. But no matter how you phrase it, the end is the same. S. Even then she had understood vaguely that she had touched upon some philosophy of life: that one was never lonely when alone, only in the midst of crowds. ’ Emile’s eyes blazed. We LIKED each other well enough.
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