There it was, like a lost dog, without a master and without a name, a dog that one person might call Flik and another Flok, at his own good pleasure. It did not know anything, not even itself; it lived to live, and did not know how to live; its heart beat, and it did not know it; it breathed, and it did not know it; it moved its eyelids, and was unaware of the fact.
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