The few whites he had ever known generally offered to pet him when they really wanted to kick him. I guess those books are okay because they are fiction. Prison was beastly. He seemed to be. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments.
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This video was uploaded to jandlonmark.org on 04-07-2024 17:28:16
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