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“Oh, it was different then from now, good God, so different it goes beyond saying.”
“I knew that. I knew it was more intense then because death was more a reality and death does quicken the pace don’t you think?”
“Right. Death does quicken the pace. And frankly everything smelled bad and it was violent and heads rolled much more frequently. Now they only roll in accidents.”
“That’s why this trite but comfortable time was an ugly seductress. And she taught me to do everything that was done, at least one time, and to use the machines and mix in neighborhoods and know cities and suburbs and rural areas. And I admit that my youth was a short stay in Hell that felt eternal until I looked out at the happy middle-aged people without a frown or wrinkle among them. It got me thinking. An age of fabrication needs its own spaces so that the quick in life is conserved and passed to the next space. And that new space is its own quickened theme but dies in common with everything else. And I listened to the tales and sped around like a nut, like the rest of the nuts, and thought about the universe and the fate of the earth. If the bulkheads held everything was fine but if they burst look out.”
“Well people lived long sometimes, rarely, but they did but rarely did they live well long. But it was ok for the hapless many who fished around in those digs.”
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