But not enough to buy her time. It made me pause and take stock. Ask myself some questions. Life was short—what did I want to do with mine? What did I want to learn, accomplish, leave behind? What memories would I cherish when it was time to look back? What would matter most? The amount of money in my bank account? The number of beautiful women I’d fucked? The square footage of my house? As impressive as those figures were, I realized they’d be meaningless in the end. And after the bombings in Paris, where I witnessed firsthand how quickly and cruelly life can be snuffed out, I knew I had to
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