waitress; andthe chimney sweep was quite delicate as hegiggled up through the soot.I walked miles through the city and recognizednothing as a giant claw ate at my stomach while the inside of my head felt airy as if I was about to go mad.it’s not so much that nothing means anything but more that it keeps meaningnothing,there’s no release, just gurus and self-appointed gods and hucksters.the more people say, the less there is to say.even the best books are dry sawdust.—from "fingernails; nostrils; shoelaces"

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