Christmas Night! They iced
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sign of growth and flames dragon
Barely had I started writing, I put my pen to gloat. The imposture was the same but I said I wanted the words to the essence of things. Nothing disturbed me more than seeing my scrawl their share gradually from gleam wisps against the dull substance of the matter: it was the make-believe. Trapped in the appointment, a lion, a captain of the Second Empire, a Bedouin way into the dining room, where they remain captive forever, incorporated by the signs, I thought I had anchored my dreams in the world by scratching with a beak of steel.
(Jean-Paul Sartre, Les Mots )
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