All my home is nothing but sadness. Life is a

prison of desolation and aborted dreams, it is nothing but

a slow progress to my place beneath the soil, it

is a plot by God to disenchant us with the

flesh, it is nothing but a brief flame in a

bowl of oil between one darkness and another one that

ends it. I sit here and remember former times. I

remember music in the night, and I know that all

my joys have been pulled out of my mouth like

teeth. I shall be hungry and thirsty and longing forever.

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Paraphrases from the novel Corelli’s Mandolin by Louis de Bernières.

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