“Slavery! Downtroddenness! When I think of it I feel all over boot marks— men’s boots. Then I cross-checked it with the name Alberti. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. Never bought a shirt in my life, Mr. “Does a bear shit in the woods?” He said.
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