He was alone. He was unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart of life. He was alone and young and willful and wildhearted, alone amid a waste of wild air and brackish waters and the seaharvest of seashells and tangle and veiled grey sunlight.
Prodooce O’Donner. Ay! Exhibit his relics! Bu! Use the tongue mor! Give lip less!
From James Joyce’s ‘Finnegans Wake’ p. 86
[I’ll leave you to interpret this! XD]
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