His personal cell burbled again and he momentarily thought about crossing the street and chucking it off the grainy stone hill. There was no solitude anymore, no downtime, no uninterrupted time to think and work out problems and puzzles, nowhere to chill your brain and emotions and relish the pure liberty of not being bugged by the world buzzing around the self, his world it seemed, overwhelmed by telephones, intellectually toxic toys most humans thought of as happy-face tools that let them never have to be alone or confront themselves. They were toys, miserable toys, no less, no more and all
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