I had such high hopes, you see. The boundaries of the world seemed vast. I would visit Rome, Paris, Constantinople.

I had such high hopes, you see. The boundaries of the world seemed vast. I would visit Rome, Paris, Constantinople. Underground cafés presented in my mind where, crushed against wet walls, a (handsome, generous) friend and I sat discussing — many things. Deep things, new ideas. Strange green lights shone in the streets, the sea lapped nearby against greasy tilted moorings; there was trouble afoot, a revolution, into which my friend and I must — Well, as is often the case, my hopes were not realized.

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