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"You were a little out of your head. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. He has often told me that if he could play sober, he would go to America and reap a fortune. "I'm sorry, Mr. When I think of those ateliers of ours, the art jargon, the decadents with their flamboyant talk I long for a twoedged sword and a minute of Divinity.
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This video was uploaded to thiruvalluvan.com on 21-09-2024 16:24:49
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