As soon as you set foot on a yacht you belong to some man, not to yourself, and you die of boredom.
Coming back to your native land after an absence of many years is a surprisingly unsettling business, a little like waking from a long coma. Time, you discover, has wrought changes that leave you feeling mildly foolish and out of touch.
Death is not extinction. Neither the soul nor the body is extinguished or put out of existence.
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