He was almost frightening in silhouette, his hair uncontrollable under the best of circumstances, but that changed when you saw his face. 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. Melusine felt the calloused hand grasp around hers.
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