It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. The morning swims in the lagoon had thickened the red corpuscle. 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. He bowed over her hand, venturing to drop a kiss on it’s leathery surface.
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