i shifted with the wind, invisible, alone, and i found in loneliness a kind of indentity. i'd go days without saying a word. when i heard myself speak to a service station attendant, or a clerk in a store, i'd be startled. whose voice was that? sometimes i was scared, but in that too i found something indicative and unchangeable…
-from "The Aerialist", R. Schmitt
now this book i bought from page one, 10% off…have to finish this before i go back to philippines and devour my precious time with 2 fat loma books.
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