Becca

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This is just conjecture, of course, but how does a man go so quickly from being unnoticed by the human world—mocked for his pursuits and occasionally even abused—to being exalted by it? I picture a meek and murky man, dusty and pale, sliding by unnoticed, slowly filling up with that light, that air, that radiant matter, whatever it is, of Purpose.
Why Fish Don't Exist: A Story of Loss, Love, and the Hidden Order of Life
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