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I cannot turn into a bat. His legs were fine and strong, he told her that he had been a warrior in ancient times, to which she snorted in disgust. And in these crowded four weeks, what had she learned? That all horizons were lies: that smiles and handshakes and goodbyes and welcomes were lies: that there were really no to-morrows, only a treadmill of to-days: and that out of these lies and mirages she had plucked a bitter truth—she was alone. "I can't hold it much longer—it'll break my wrist.
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