When he gets up he spends an hour kicking and stamping on his French horn so he will not have to play it again. Music, maths, these are things that no longer make any sense to him. They are too perfect, they do not belong here. He does not khow how he ever believed this universe could be a symphony played on super-strings, when it sounds like shit, played on shit.
( Paul Murray )
[ Skippy Dies ]
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